


Beautiful Disaster

by nyxocity



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Ending Relationship, Falling In Love, From Sex to Love, Frottage, M/M, Polyamory, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Rock Stars, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 96,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxocity/pseuds/nyxocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rock Band AU. Jensen’s the lead guitarist in the number one rock band in the country. Justin’s the lead singer, and they’ve been doing this together since middle-school, been together since just after high school. As on top of the world as they are, Jensen’s starting to become disillusioned with the lifestyle and his crumbling relationship with Justin. And then he meets a new roadie on the crew named Jared who’s got a voice like an angel and a heart to match, and everything starts to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[ ](http://i708.photobucket.com/albums/ww81/thenyxx/bdbannerL.png)

The record release party for _Painted Jade_ is held at the luxuriant Hammerstein Ballroom in Manhattan Center. There are thousands of people packed into the Grand Ballroom as a cellist plays the band’s songs, women painted to look like jade statues serving green meanies in jade shot glasses. Thousands of balloons hug the high ceilings of the room in every shade of green imaginable, jade statues set around the edges of the room, one huge centerpiece rising tall at the center. Jensen recognizes it as a duplicate of a famous Japanese statue; a goddess with eight arms, two holding a mic as she sings into it, two more holding and playing a guitar, two more playing a bass, and the last two holding drumsticks as if playing. Mike had that custom made for this event. Jensen wonders what the fuck they’re going to do with it after the party. If they’re gonna have to lug the fucking thing on stage with them for every show on the tour.

Jensen watches from the balcony, thronging crowd of men and women in glittery, fancy gowns and tuxedoes clink glasses and down shots, laughing and talking.

He can pick Justin out from here; white-blond hair spiked up, dark eyes full of laughter as he chats up a tall red-headed girl, hand wrapped around the stem of a martini glass.

A hand falls on his shoulder, body moving up beside him.

“Not in the mood to mingle?” 

Jensen shrugs, tugging at the bowtie around his neck. “It’s a little overdone.”

“Hey, you don’t pay me to make you look small time,” Mike grins, lights gleaming softly against the smooth, oiled surface of his bald head.

Jensen nods, watches as the redhead leans in, whispering something into Justin’s ear.

“Just be ready to go onstage in…” Mike checks his watch, all precision. “Two hours and twenty minutes.”

“I’m always ready to be onstage.”

“That’s what I love about you, Jen.” Mike smiles and claps him on the shoulder. “Knock ‘em dead, huh?”

Jensen can’t help but grin back. The crowd is a little too crazy for him, but the band is releasing their new album tonight, performing it for the first time, live, and there’s an excitement, a tension in the air he can’t deny.

“Sure thing, boss.”

Mike claps him on the back one more time for good measure and heads for the stairs.

“Hey, Rosenbaum,” someone yells from downstairs, voice almost lost in the din. 

“Keep your pants on, Jim,” Mike yells back, buttoning the jacket of his tux as he runs down the stairs.

As managers go, Mike’s a little too slick and Hollywood for Jensen’s taste, but he’s got a charm about him.

He sighs, sips at his beer, and looks back down at the crowd. Sandy’s there, perfectly pressed into her sleek, pink-satin gown, that million-watt smile aimed at some producer well past his prime. Chad’s not far away, toasting with Samantha, and hell, why not? She’s done a bang up job with their promoting.

It’s their big night.

He should be celebrating, Jensen decides, downing the rest of his beer.

*

He gets hit as soon as he passes the velvet rope at the end of the stairs, the security guard nodding to him before hooking it closed again.

“Jensen! Where have you been hiding?” Chris throws his arms around Jensen, hugs him tight, and Jensen smiles, hugs him back.

“Too much crowd for you?” Chris asks with a knowing smile as he pulls back.

Jensen nods, chuckling. “So how the hell have you been, man?”

“Good. I’m good. Business is going well. Just took a gig as manager for this up and coming band, _The West Coast Prophets_. Ever heard of ‘em?”

“Not yet. But if I know you, I’ll be hearing about them soon enough.”

Chris laughs. “You know, Jen, you ever change your mind about this superstar thing,” Chris says, glancing at the room around them. “You know where to find me.”

Jensen nods. “I’ve missed you, man.” Chris isn’t at the high end of things like Michael, but then, he’s not in the business for that kind of glamorous bullshit. Every now and then, he misses Chris’s more level headed style, but their band’s grown way beyond that, now. 

“Me, too. Let’s keep in touch this time, huh?”

“Jensen!” someone yells, and he turns just in time to get an arm thrown around his shoulders, Justin turning him, yanking him in front of a photographer.

“Cheers, baby,” Justin says, clinking his glass against Jensen’s bottle. He’s wound up, cheeks flushed, eyes bright and excited, and it never gets old, watching Justin get all worked up like this. Jensen smiles back, tilts his beer against Justin’s glass, turns so their cheeks are pressed together, looking straight at the camera.

The bottle’s empty, but fuck it.

“Cheers.” Jensen grins as the flash bulb pops. 

*

Jensen’s eight beers in, dressed in black leather pants and a black vest over a white t-shirt, fully made-up in pancake and eyeliner when the lights go up. There are thousands of people clapping, singing out their name.

Jensen always feels like a God under the spotlight. Crowd screaming, cheering, fingers flying up and down the neck of his guitar, no thought, just instinct.

They open with _Cold Contagious_ , Justin singing loud, voice swelling on the mic as Sandy thrums out the bass, Chad rolling steady on drums.

_"Wherever you are,  
you will carry always,  
truth of the scars  
and the darkness of your faith."_

Jensen yanks his shoulder as he pounds out the heavy guitar notes, hips swinging as he hits his stride, moves into the rhythm of the song.

_"Slowly move on  
How did we get to here?  
It all went wrong  
gravity claiming all your tears...  
Everything looks so much better now  
looks so much better now."_

He can’t think about what the song means, not here, not now, in front of all these eyes, playing the songs live for the first time, and that’s the truest joy of all.

Justin wails into the microphone, skin flashing red, yellow, and blue under the stagelights.

_“You will get yours,  
you will get yours,  
you will get yours.”_

The words resound inside Jensen’s head, building the feel of the song, and Jensen’s fingers slide into the perfect position, notes ringing out, and underscoring Justin’s voice. 

_“You have no right  
to ask me now  
you were never that around.”_

Jensen divorces his mind completely from the lyrics, dances a few steps forward, shoulder swinging into Justin’s on the down stroke, hand hammering out the note on the whammy bar.

Justin backs into him, body already sweating through the thin mesh of his black tank top, and Jensen plays on, guitar jutting out from his hip, chin resting on Justin’s shoulder as they launch into the chorus together.

It turns out to be an amazing fucking show.

*

They fly to Colorado and the beginning of their tour the next morning, all of them hung over; Justin sprawled across the seat next to Jensen, his head falling into Jensen’s shoulder as he sleeps.

“Why the fuck are we playing Colorado first, dude? We should _start_ in LA.”

“There was this whole pool where people bid…” Mike shakes his head, shrugs. “They paid us the most to start there, baby,” Mike says, dropping a kiss on Chad’s forehead.

Jensen’s eyelids droop shut on the scene.

*

The opening show in Boulder is no less amazing than the debut show in Manhattan, and Jensen’s still sweating, still flying high on adrenaline as Mike hustles them back to the hotel.

Jensen sinks into the leather couch in the main room of the suite, squeezing in next to Sandy and Chad. Justin moves up behind him, arms snaking around his neck from behind the couch.

“MTV news report, as of ten minutes ago,” Mike says, cueing up the 50-inch widescreen in the suite.

The MTV logo spins in the bottom corner and a picture of their band pops up behind Kurt Loder.

“Oh, man,” Chad groans. “Who the fuck gave them that shot, Mike? I look like a goddamn zombie hooker.”

“You always look like that,” Mike says, elbowing Chad. “Now shut up.” He zooms up the volume on the TV.

“To absolutely no one’s surprise,” Kurt is saying, “T Minus Zero’s new album _Painted Jade_ debuted today at number one on the charts. _Don’t Believe You_ , the band’s first single from the new album, has been playing for the last month on radio stations all over the world and has sold almost one million copies to date.”

“The band’s last album, _Nascent Descent_ , has sold 16 million copies worldwide, beating Guns n’ Roses _Appetite for Destruction_ for best selling album by a rock-band in the last forty years—a title Guns n’ Roses held for almost twenty years. 

Kurt delivers the last words with a severity that’s almost comical, and Jensen can’t help snorting.

Justin laughs, arms tightening around Jensen’s neck. “Come on, Jenny, you know you think Kurt’s hot.”

“He’s a fucking _mummy_ ,” Jensen shoots back, turning his head. 

“Yeah.” Justin grins. “And let’s all bow our heads and take a moment for Guns n’ Roses memory. What the hell is that about?”

“It’s a milestone in your _career_ ,” Mike says with emphasis as he flicks the TV off.

“Then why the fuck aren’t we celebrating, Mikey?” Justin asks, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Was getting to that.” Two guys hustle up to Mike, each one of them carrying an end of a huge metal bucket filled with ice and more than a dozen champagne bottles. Mike plucks a bottle of champagne from the selection as the men set it down. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says with a smile. “Congratulations. We’re number one. Again.” Mike pops the cork, champagne foaming out, spurting all over the floor.

“Hell yeah,” Chad yells, and Justin laughs, tilts his head back as Mike steps up, pours champagne all over his face, half of it making it into his mouth. Jensen flinches away from the dribble of cold liquid trickling down his shoulder, and Mike shakes his head with a smirk. 

“Open up, Jen.”

Jensen grins, tilts his head back. “Make it in my mouth, motherfucker.” To his credit, Mike tries, but Jensen still ends up with champagne dribbling down his jaw, laughing as the bubbles tickle his nose.

Chad opens his mouth eagerly, swallows down a few gulps, bubbles trailing down his cheeks as he laughs and swallows. Mike hands the bottle to Sandy with a half-bow, and Sandy takes it, holds it up over her face as she tilts her head back and pours it into her own mouth, grinning around the trickle at the edges.

Everyone’s cheering, yelling, and the band’s all still laughing, covered in champagne with their arms in the air.

There are more bottles being popped now, champagne slung everywhere, and Mike is throwing confetti in the air, sharing the bag with anyone close enough to grab a handful. Everyone is soaked with champagne, foil stars sticking to the alcohol on their skin, gold, silver and black. Someone puts music on and cranks up the volume.

“Almost forgot,” Mike says, producing a perfectly rolled joint between his thumb and forefinger. “Party favors.”

“You’re the best, man.” Justin thumbs Mike’s chin and kisses his cheek.

Mike just smirks . “This is what I’m here for.” Mike pushes the joint between Justin’s lips, lights the end for him.

Justin sucks in a deep lungful, smiles. “Doesn’t mean you’re not the best,” he says, puffs of smoke escaping with every word.

Mike winks at Justin and moves on through the crowd, distributing more “party favors”.

The room is hazy, filling with smoke, warm from all the bodies packed inside it. _Sweet Jane_ by the Cowboy Junkies is playing on the stereo, and Jensen feels _good_ , warm and high on the debut and the champagne in his belly. Justin walks around the couch, joint still burning in his hand as he smiles at Jensen. Jensen smiles back, lifts the bottle of champagne Mike left him with and takes a long drink. He sets it on the table and gives Justin a nice long once over with his eyes, up and down.

The song changes to _Don’t Believe You_ in the background, and Jensen freezes. 

Shit.

Justin just looks at him for a long moment, something hard and unreadable in his eyes, fingers of one hand flexing.

_“You build me up then you knock me down.  
You play the fool while I play the clown.  
We keep time to the beat of an old slave drum.  
You raise my hopes then you raise the odds  
You tell me that I dream too much  
Now I’m serving time in disillusionment.”_

“Wish I’d never written that fucking song,” Jensen mutters.

“Stuck with it now,” Justin murmurs. “Fuck it. Come on, Jen.” Justin’s voice is low, intimate as he crawls onto his lap, straddling him, forehead leaning into Jensen’s. “Let’s celebrate, huh? I wanna get high.” Big, brown soulful eyes, his body hot, pressing into Jensen’s. Jensen settles his hands on the jut of Justin’s hips. Justin turns the joint around, puts it between his lips, and Jensen opens his mouth, breathes in smoke as Justin shotguns him. He lets it coil in his lungs while Justin takes the joint out of his mouth, then blows out rich smoke in a slow cloud over Justin’s face. Justin opens his mouth, sucks it in and grins, lips brushing Jensen’s, fingers of one hand curling into Jensen’s waist.

He’s so fucking hopelessly beautiful. 

Jensen feels the smoke settle into his bones, muscles smoothing out, relaxing, his body melting into the couch. Justin’s chest is pressed against his, and Jensen wraps his arms around Justin’s shoulders, pulls him in and claims Justin’s mouth. Lips opening, breathing out smoke from his lungs into Jensen’s around the collision of their tongues. Hips rocking into each other, as Jensen exhales through his nose, puts one hand on the back of Justin’s neck and yanks him deeper into the kiss.

_“I don’t believe you anymore...  
I don’t believe you.”_

Justin pulls back, mouth reddened, eyes glazed with more than dope. “Gotta work the room. Duty calls,” he grins, lips brushing Jensen’s one last time. He puts the joint in Jensen’s hand and climbs off, standing up and taking off.

“I can never keep track,” Chad says, snatching the joint from Jensen’s hand as he falls onto the couch beside Jensen. “Are you two together this week, or not?” He inhales quick and deep, end of the joint flaring bright orange.

Jensen eyes Justin across the room, already flirting with a gorgeous brunette who has to be model or a movie star.

“Doesn’t matter.” Jensen shrugs. “End of the day, it’s always gonna be us.”

“From middle-school to eternity, huh?” Chad asks, exhaling. He passes the joint to Jensen. “Gotta say, dude. Always? Is a mighty long time.”

Jensen breathes out a sound that’s not quite a laugh, and nods.

“Tell me about it,” he says, and puts the joint to his lips.

*

Jensen wakes as the bus comes to a halt, dissonance of rhythm rousing him. He yawns, rolls over in his bunk, and sees Chad sleeping peacefully across from him. He slides into his jeans under the covers and sits up, feet touching the hard wood floor as he yanks on the shirt he discarded earlier. Denver rest stop, he sees, with a glance out the window.

It’s chilly even in late spring here in Denver, and Jensen feels goosebumps ripple his skin underneath the thin cover of his t-shirt as he steps off the tour bus. It’s a clear night, stars bright in the sky as he pulls the battered pack of Marlboro’s from his pants pocket and lights one.

Sharp, crisp inhale of smoke, slow burn hitting his lungs like relief, and it’s times like these, the first drag of nicotine hitting his system, eyes closing in pleasure, when he wonders how he’s ever going to be able to quit these things for good.

A fleet of smaller buses and vans is lined up behind them in the rest stop, trail of parking lights fading off into the distance, and Jensen can just make out the shape of a driver slumped against the side window of the first one, catching a few precious minutes of sleep while Jeff does something under the hood of the tour bus.

It’s quiet except for the rumbling of the engine, and Jensen stretches his arms, arches his back, figures everyone else must be muttering curses, tossing and turning in their beds. It’s pretty damned early in the morning, considering how dark and still the rest stop is--it looks abandoned except for them.

He yawns again, takes another drag and tilts his head back, rolling it against his shoulders to loosen the muscles. Big gig in the city tomorrow, and they played hard last night in Boulder, partied even harder. He takes a few steps away from the bus, his bare feet scuffing the asphalt, just sort of wandering towards the main building of the rest stop.

The sound of the bus engine fades a little, and Jensen catches the sound of something else rising on the still morning air. It sounds like… someone singing. Soft and low. He walks a little closer towards the source, squinting as he cocks his head, listens.

Deep voice, pure and strong even at this volume, a low rumble of bass that could lend itself easily to soul. Whoever it is, they’re damned good.

_“I know a drugstore cowgirl, so afraid of getting bored, she’s always running from something, so many things ignored…”_

Jensen recognizes the song, of course, but the way this guy is singing it makes 311’s lead singer sound like Eric Cartman. He sounds like he’s singing in a choir, and it’s so much more beautiful than the original song. Haunting, Jensen thinks, goose bumps scattering over his skin again.

The guy is _huge_ , sitting on a low wall at the edge of the rest stop, elbows on his knees. Jensen can’t see his face under the fluorescents of the parking lot, long, dark, shaggy hair falling forward to hide him. His body is limned in harsh fluorescents, musculature still obvious through his jacket, light glittering and catching in the highlights of his hair, that voice ringing out in the open space.

That voice.

Jensen walks closer, feels the asphalt against his heels, and feels the space he’s taking up in the air around him, early morning chill caressing his skin. Jensen knows the moment the guy senses him, body stilling, face looking up, eyes widening a little bit. 

Jesus. He’s fucking _hot_ , too. Hazel eyes and a wide mouth, high cheekbones. 

“You’re really good,” Jensen says, thinking that’s an understatement. 

The guy looks surprised for a second then he smiles, and he gets even _better_ looking. It’s like everything in him comes to life at once, shoulders slanting, chin lifting, teeth bright white against his tanned skin, eyes practically glowing in the light. “Thanks, dude.”

Jensen doesn’t recognize him, probably wouldn’t recognize half of his own crew, truth be told, the way they rotate in and out. Still, he’s sure he’d remember _this_ guy if he’d seen him around before. “I know you?” Jensen asks, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“Nah. I’m new.” The guy’s got a hint of Texan accent lurking around his vowels, words drawn just a little too long. “I’m Jared.”

Jared. Nice name, too. “Roadie?”

“Yeah. Chad got me the job.”

Guy’s definitely got the build for the work. He’s wearing a beat-up blue jean jacket that hugs his massive shoulders. It doesn’t do much to mask the fact that Jared’s totally built. 

“Can I ask you something?” Jensen sits down on the wall next to Jared. Jared’s eyes are a little glazed as he looks over at Jensen, and it’s not from being star-struck. Jensen wonders what he’s on. “The fuck are you doing roadie work for with a voice like that?”

Jared’s silent for a minute, and then he just shrugs. “I’m no Justin Hartley.”

Jensen chuckles, takes a last drag off his cigarette. “Nobody’s Justin.” Jensen's heard better singers than Justin. There are one or two better singers floating in the Top 100, and one sitting next to him, right now. But Justin’s got the looks, the charm, and the energy. He knows how to play to the crowd, and he plays to them for all he’s worth.

Jensen spreads his knees and leans forward, tossing his cigarette on the ground between his feet. It scatters in a shower of orange sparks. “I always wanted to be able to sing. You know, better than just back up.”

Jared laughs. “Why? Dude. You play guitar like a madman.”

“Yeah.” Jensen shrugs one shoulder. “But anyone can learn how to play guitar. Singing’s a gift you’re either born with, or you’re not.”

“Playing guitar the way you do _is_ a gift,” Jared insists. When Jensen scoffs, Jared shakes his head, looks at Jensen, incredulous. “You know you’re ranked number twenty-two in the world?”

Jensen snorts, turns his head sideways at Jared. “Really? Twenty-two?”

“In the _world_. That’s out of every single guitarist that’s _alive_ right now, in every single country. Nothing to fucking laugh at, dude.”

Jensen looks at Jared, thinks about that for a second. “How do you even know that?”

“Yeah, okay, that sounded a little fanboy,” Jared grins, sitting back, hands resting on his knees. “But hey, you’re gonna roadie for a band, know the band you’re roadie-ing for. I Googled it, dude.”

Jensen rubs his hands together, looks down at them, and doesn’t quite know what to say.

“I always wanted to play guitar,” Jared confides, voice low.

Jensen nods, glances over. “Guess we all want what we don’t have.”

Jared chews at his lower lip, and it’s damned endearing. “Yeah.” He shifts his weight, nods. “That’s the bitch of it, huh?”

Jensen studies Jared for a few long seconds, understands that they’re talking about different specifics, but the same thing. Jensen’s oddly curious. He’s almost never curious. But then, most people are willing to spill their life story all over you like vomiting on command if you give them an opening.

“Sounds like you’ve got a little bit of experience in that area,” Jensen offers.

Jared shakes his head. “Nothing special. No more special than anyone else, anyway,” he adds, pushing to his feet.

Christ he’s fucking _tall_.

“I better get back,” Jared says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Jim gets edgy if I’m gone too long.”

“Jim gets edgy when people _sneeze_.” Jensen understands. Still, he’s not used to being abandoned. Especially not when the conversation is just about to get interesting.

Jared chuckles. “It was… cool meeting you, Jensen.” Jared hesitates a second, then says, “You’re not like I thought you’d be.”

“How’d you think I’d be?”

“Stuck up pretty boy, too good to talk to roadies.” When Jensen just stares, Jared laughs out loud. “You always come across as this really decent guy in your interviews, but I mean, come on, who believes that shit? It’s all pre-arranged, publicist telling you what to say.”

“Thanks,” Jensen says, skeptical.

“It was a compliment.” Jared lowers his voice a notch, looks Jensen in the eye for a second. “See you around, Jensen.”

“Yeah.”

Jensen watches Jared’s tall, long frame amble away. Tilts his head to the side and watches the way Jared’s ass moves inside his jeans—which are _way_ too loose, in Jensen’s opinion. 

Jared. Huh.

*

Denver turns out to be kind of a pain in the ass. 

Justin’s running on fumes and hair of the dog to kill his hangover, and he’s grumpy as fuck until he pulls out his sniffer vial and snorts a couple of bumps. Then, he can’t shut the fuck up, and by the time they get out onstage, he’s all over the place, practically bouncing off the walls, messy and sloppy with his singing. To top it all off, Jensen snaps a string halfway through the set—halfway through a _song_ for fuck’s sake, and he plays out the end with five strings, struggling to make it sound like something close to the original, which really doesn’t work out. So he goes for something different instead, finishing with a few power chords and a high note, hammering on the whammy bar. A roadie ducks onstage at Jensen’s gesture, takes the guitar and has it fixed in under two minutes while Justin talks to the crowd—and letting Justin do any talking to the crowd when he’s this high is a really _bad_ idea.

Fortunately, the crowd’s keyed up enough that they don’t seem to mind Justin’s blathering at them. Jensen takes his guitar back with a sigh of relief, and they play the rest of the show without any major incidents.

Chad gets fucking _wasted_ drunk after the show, ends up in the bathroom shaving off his hair on a bet with one of the opening band’s guitarists.

Mike _flips_ the fuck out when Chad emerges with his buzz cut. Chad just rubs the stubble on his head and blows smoke at Mike and says he’ll work the tough guy look for a while. Mike finally throws up his hands, grabs a bottle of Southern Comfort and proceeds to get just as wasted as Chad. By the end of the night, the two of them are leaning on each other’s shoulders, sagging drunkenly as they confess their love for each other.

Jensen’s pretty drunk himself, hasn’t seen Justin since he took off with the opening band’s singer an hour ago, and finally he shoves up from the chair he’s been planted in all night, staggering in the direction of the bed.

“Easy there, tiger.” Sandy’s edging her body under his shoulder, helping him towards the bed. Sandy’s got to be almost as drunk as Jensen, because they stagger and weave, and when they get there, she falls in beside him. Jensen wraps his arms around her waist, rests his forehead against hers and passes right the hell out.

When he wakes up in the morning, Mike and Chad are passed out sitting up on the couch, mouths open and snoring in unison. Jensen snorts and pulls out the camera, getting a perfect shot of the scene, empty liquor bottles lined up in a row in front of them on the coffee table. They don’t even so much as shift when the flashbulb pops, and that makes Jensen laugh even harder.

Jeff throws open the door a few seconds later. “Rise and shine, boys and girls. Bus leaves in half an hour.”

Sandy rouses from the bed, hair still straight and perfect, blinking sleepily, and Chad and Mike don’t move a muscle.

Jeff rolls his eyes, gives Jensen a knowing look. “Better get them a coffee IV and some aspirin.” Jensen nods and Jeff stops, looking around. “Where the fuck is Justin?”

Jensen frowns, does a quick check of the room, and finds Justin on the floor next to the bed. He’s curled around his own boots, holding them like the world can take them when they pry them from his cold dead hands.

Jensen almost falls down laughing, and snaps another picture.

*

They drive from Denver to Phoenix, Chad and Mike moaning and groaning half the day. Justin and Jensen curl up together on the bench seat across from Chad and Mike and proceed to make fun of them until Chad gets pissed and throws his lighter at Justin. Thirteen hours proves to be long enough for them recover from their hangovers, though, and they’re in decent shape by the time they hit Phoenix at 9PM.

The show is at a stadium, and it’s fucking huge, two bands playing before they finally go onstage. Justin’s keyed up, apparently rested after his crash last night.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen!” he yells into the mic as they take the stage. “How’s everybody doing here tonight in—wait,” he says grinning. “Don’t tell me. I know this one. We’re in…” he points the mic at the crowd and makes a “come on” motion with his other hand, and the crowd goes wild, screaming “Phoenix” at the top of their lungs. “What’s that?” Justin asks, cupping a hand around his ear. “I don’t think I _heard you_.” He points the mic at the audience and the fans go even crazier, roaring the name of their city. Justin laughs, puts the mic to his mouth. “Phoenix!” He raises his other arm high in the air. “Are you ready to rock?” Everyone roars even louder, and the band launches into _Cold Contagious_.

It’s a good, solid show, and Justin is totally on, conversing with the crowd regularly between songs. By the time they finish, people on the field are throwing shirts and bras on the stage, screaming and yelling, and the band raises their hands in unison, taking a bow together.

Jensen peels off from the group, hits the backstage restroom on the way to the VIP room. He’s learned from years of experience that it’ll take him at least half an hour to make it across the room to the VIP bathrooms, someone stopping him every two steps. Turns out, the bathroom isn’t as empty as he expects. 

There are two people pressed together against the green tiled wall, fluorescent light flickering over their heads. Two guys, one turned against the wall, the other spooned behind him, hips thrusting slow and lazy.

Jensen starts to look away, ignore it—not like he hasn’t seen it a million times before—and then the guy pressed against the wall turns his face, cheek dragging against the tile, mouth open in a breathy moan, eyes shut tight with pleasure.

Jared.

Jensen averts his eyes, turns to the closest urinal and makes use of it. Jared and the groupie don’t seem to take any notice, and he can’t stop himself from glancing over again.

Jared’s eyes are open, glazed and glassy, looking straight at Jensen, lower lip caught between his teeth as the groupie thrusts into him.

It shouldn’t be nearly as fucking hot as it is.

Jared’s probably all strung out, maybe won’t even remember it tomorrow, but right now he’s staring into Jensen, eyes burning, so intense, and Jensen can’t make himself look away. It doesn’t even feel _wrong_ to watch, not with Jared looking at him like that.

The groupie reaches around, hand sliding inside Jared’s pants, and Jared’s head snaps back, teeth biting into his lower lip and tugging, eyes fluttering. 

Jensen really needs to get the fuck out of here. He shakes off, tucks in and zips, trying to blot out the noises Jared’s making as he comes.

When the door closes behind him, he takes a minute to breathe. No big deal. He doesn’t know why he’s so affected by it. It’s not like he thinks any less of Jared for it—Jensen’s been guilty of fucking in semi-public more than a few times. It’s just… he wasn’t expecting that, is all. He didn’t even know Jared liked guys. 

He’s just surprised.

And maybe a little turned on.

When he opens the door to the VIP room, the party’s already in full swing, loud laughter and chattering voices in sharp contrast to the scene in the bathroom.

“Jensen.” Mike’s curling an arm around his shoulder, tugging him deeper into the crowd. 

Jensen’s eyes travel over the crowd as they pass through it, searching out one face.

Justin’s pushed against the wall in the corner, Shinedown’s bassist kissing him like he wants to fuck Justin right there. And that’s nothing Jensen hasn’t seen a thousand times before, either, except for the Eric Bass part. Mike’s eyes follow Jensen’s to the scene.

“Maybe we should put him in PR,” Mike offers.

Jensen snorts.

“C’mon. Someone I want you to meet.”

‘Someone’ turns out to be a cute twink of a blond guy who works for some music magazine. He wants to do an interview with Jensen before they leave town. Maybe later tonight, if Jensen’s got time.

“Why not right now?” Jensen asks, looking the younger guy up and down, and Mike plants a kiss on Jensen’s cheek, heads out through the crowd.

Gabe is nice enough, if a bit over eager, and Mike’s got a private room arranged for them before Gabe can so much as get his wits about him.

It’s a darkish room, backlit, mostly, a couch and a couple of chairs, sound equipment scattered at the edges.

Jensen sinks into the leather couch next to Gabe, leans back and stretches his arms out along the back. A muscle in Gabe’s face twitches as he realizes Jensen’s arm is stretched out behind his head, but he keeps it totally professional as he breaks out his tape recorder. He’s cute enough, hot body, sharp features, hazel eyes with just enough innocence to look a little star-struck, not enough to make him look _too_ young. 

“It’s a pretty short interview, shouldn’t take too much of your time.”

“I’m not in a hurry,” Jensen says easily. After all, this is a freebie, a write-off; no one who will ever say a word even knows they’re here, and they never have to see each other again. They both know why they’re really here, but Jensen knows the job always comes first. 

Gabe’s hand shakes a little as he presses the record button.

It’s a fairly standard interview for the first few questions, and then Gabe switches tracks.

“ _Don’t Believe You_ has taken the charts by storm in the last month. You penned the lyrics for the song, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“It’s very emotionally intense. Can you tell us who it was written about?”

Jensen shrugs, keeps the smile on his face. “We don’t like to define our songs. We like to let our listeners decide what it means to them.”

“So it’s not about you and Justin?” Gabe asks, hazel eyes flicking up at Jensen. The question’s got more meaning packed behind it than a simple interview question. But Jensen knows that doesn’t mean it’s not going down in print. Not like he’d tell the truth about that anyway.

Jensen keeps his smile handy, arches a brow at Gabe. “I know some of our fans like to think our songs are about me and Justin, and others think completely differently. I really can’t disappoint any of them by answering that.” Jensen throws in a playful wink at the end. Seven years he’s been doing this. He knows how it’s done.

Gabe looks disappointed, but he moves on to the next question.

When they finish, Gabe clicks off the tape recorder, glances up at Jensen hesitantly. “I hope it’s what you were expecting.”

“Actually… I was expecting a little more,” Jensen murmurs as he leans in for the kill. Gabe’s mouth is soft, hands awkward against Jensen until Jensen tugs him over into his lap. Tongues sliding slick, Jensen’s hands all over Gabe’s body, under his shirt, teasing his nipples until they’re hard and aching, Gabe gasping, twitching, head falling back against his shoulders, hard as a rock, cock pressed up against Jensen’s, hips rolling mindlessly into Jensen again and again.

“This part isn’t going in the magazine.” Jensen doesn’t ask so much as he states it, one brow arching lazily, mouth teasing at Gabe’s.

“Are you kidding?” Gabe gasps. “Like my bosses want our readers to know that I’m gay?”

Jensen smiles, grabs a handful of Gabe’s hair, tugs his head back hard, biting at his throat. 

Jensen fucks Gabe against the wall from behind, one hand gripping Gabe’s hip, other fisted in his hair. 

In his mind, he sees Jared pressed against the wall, the way he’d looked, completely debauched, caught in the moment.

He fucks Gabe harder, thinks of that mouth dragging against the tile, eyes bright and hot, staring into Jensen.

Gabe’s body seizes all around him as Jensen jerks him off, fist slicking as Gabe comes. 

Jensen can’t help but think of Jared, the line of his throat, arched, mouth open, eyes closed, head lolling against the groupie’s shoulder.

Jensen comes with that image burning in his mind.

*

When Jensen gets back to the hotel suite, it’s late and the room is dark. Jensen sighs, strips out of his t-shirt and drops it right there. His hands are already falling to his jeans, undoing the top button when he walks into the main room. 

Chad’s completely passed out on the couch, face buried in a fluffy pillow. The TV is on, murmuring in the background, flickering light into the dark room. Jensen glances at the TV, blinks when he sees himself onscreen next to Justin.

He _remembers_ this interview. The first one they’d ever done for VH1.

God. They look so _young_. Sitting on the couch together, knees and shoulders nudging against each other unconsciously. Justin in his leather jacket, hair longer, white-blond hair cut in an angle toward his face, brushing against his cheek, dressed in those old jeans with the knees blown out, denim faded almost white, the ones Jensen had threatened to throw out a million times. Jensen’s hair is a little longer, too, slicked back into a mess that’s not quite spiky, not quite smooth, tips frosted, motorcycle jacket and black jeans. Both of them smiling so easily, practically glowing.

They’d been so in love, then. Everything brand new and perfect that first year, careers skyrocketing. They’d been… perfect.

He kneels down next to the coffee table, picks up the remote, and turns up the volume a little.

_When the tour for **Sonic Rebel Invasion** finished, was it hard for you to adjust to life back home?_

_Justin laughs, tosses his head back, hair sweeping across his cheek. “We both come from the same home town and our families live a few blocks away from each other, so going home isn’t much different than being on tour. It’s not like, hey, dinner’s ready, it’s more like hey, Jensen’s here, we can eat now!”_

_“I could never sleep. I had to set up an air compressor next to the bed so it sounded like I was still on the tour bus,” Jensen chuckles._

Everything had been different then. The shell-shock of figuring out they’d hit the big time, appreciation for each and every single fan that helped them get there. Jensen shakes his head, wonders when that stopped. When **everything** stopped.

_How has your life changed since **Sonic Rebel Invasion** came out?_

_Justin and Jensen glance at each other, grin. “There’s a lot more security guards,” Justin says with a chuckle. “We can’t just hit the bar after a show, hang out with people.”_

_“There’s a lot less freedom,” Jensen nods. “It’s a trade-off, though. In some ways we’ve got more freedom than we ever did.”_

_Justin nods, shoulder nudging into Jensen’s a little harder, and Jensen glances over at him, smiling._

_The interviewer is waiting for Jensen to continue, and Jensen watches himself cue in a few seconds late. “I mean, now we have more creative freedom, to experiment, try some things we couldn’t have before.”_

Maybe nobody else will ever know for sure outside their group, but Jensen recognizes that smile on his face—the one just for Justin--grin trying to burst out around the edges, held in reserve in front of the audience.

_Like the title of the new album suggests, is there a feeling that you’ve really arrived?_

_“The title is more about searching for the **meaning** of ‘arrival’ than actually arriving. We were like, ‘are we there now?’ ‘Or is it now? It doesn’t **feel** like it’s now’ ‘What about now? Nope.’ It’s such a transitory thing. I don’t know if anyone ever feels like they’ve really arrived,” Jensen shrugs. “You’re always just trying to do your thing, play the next show, write the next song.”_

_Did you write a lot of **Essence of Arrival** while you were on tour?_

_“Jen penned most of the songs while we were on tour,” Justin nods, canting his head to look at Jensen, tucking his hair back behind one ear._

It’s such an endearing gesture, one Jensen’s missed over the years since Justin changed his hairstyle, and he can see himself react to it onscreen, the softness in his eyes before he looks back at the interviewer and begins to speak.

_“We knew about halfway through the tour that we wanted to have a little bit of a different sound on the next album. Not quite as hard and fast as _Sonic_. We’ve grown up a little bit since we wrote that, and we wanted that to show on the next album. It’s kind of a subtle difference. A little more meaningful.”_

They hadn’t been together yet when Jensen wrote most of _Sonic Rebel Invasion_. It’s an album full of want and desperate need, bitter years of longing. _Essence of Arrival_ was the sum of the happiest year and a half of their lives together. Jensen blinks, long and slow, thinks about turning the TV off.

_There’s a lot of speculation among fans that a lot of the songs on both albums are written about a particular person. Any chance we could get you to talk about who?_

_Justin and Jensen look at each other again, and Jensen licks his lips, shrugs a little. “We try to write our music so that a song can mean something to everyone. Everyone’s been in love, everyone’s had their heart broken, we all know what that feels like, it’s universal, so that’s something that connects easily with people.”_

_When you write a song like **I’m the One** or **A Step Behind** , do you think; ‘now that’s a hit!’?_

_“Justin says it’s a hit.”_

_“I call all of our hits, and see the future …” Justin says, grinning as he points to his temples._

_“He has this special hit dance,” Jensen says, settling his chin on one hand and turning to look at Justin, fondness in his eyes. “Sometimes he makes it rain.”_

_“I get them confused sometimes,” Justin nods._

_Jensen laughs. “Not the rain dance, we want the **hit** dance!”_

They both laugh, then, and it’s… so _carefree_ that it breaks Jensen’s heart. He reaches for the remote, clicks the TV off in the middle of Justin speaking.

As if on cue, the door the hotel room opens and Justin stumbles in. Jensen can see him silhouetted perfectly in the doorway for a moment before it closes and Justin flicks on the lights.

“Jen.” Justin actually looks surprised to see him—and well, he is kneeling on the floor in the dark.

“Hey.” Jensen's voice is soft, too soft and he clears his throat, looks away, motioning to the remote on the table. “Was just turning off the TV.”

“Yeah? What were you watching?” Justin asks, taking a few more unsteady steps into the room. He falls down more than he sits next to Jensen, practically falling on him as he reaches across Jensen for the remote, and Jensen catches him by the shoulder, steadies him.

Justin hits the power button on the remote to the cable box and Jensen takes a deep breath.

Justin lets it run for a minute, watching, and Jensen watches Justin’s face, can’t look at the screen.

_Do you prefer the road to the studio?_

_“We make our records in a house in LA, so we get to settle in one place for a while, but none of us get to be home.”_

_“It’s hard,” Jensen says. “It can definitely be tougher in the studio, I think, because when you do a take in the studio, you’re the only one deciding if it’s good or not. It’s not like a concert, where there are twenty thousand people jumping up and down, screaming every time you do one.”_

_“Speak for yourself,” Justin laughs. “In my mind, it’s a little different._

_“Lead singer,” Jensen teases._

Jensen’s sure he remembers the exact face Justin made at him, tongue sticking out. Justin’s face is completely still now, eyes hazy, but fixed and unblinking on the TV.

“But at least we always get to be together,” Justin murmurs in time with his voice onscreen.

_You two have been friends since middle school, in and out of bands together over the years. What’s that like?_

“It’s great,” Jensen whispers in perfect unison with his younger self.

Justin mutes the TV, turns to look at him. Even in the dim light of the TV, Jensen can see everything in his dark eyes. The layers between them peel back for a split second, all the years, all the scars. It’s more than Jensen stand to see—more than he’d thought was still there to see. 

“How was the interviewer?” Justin asks in a low whisper, and Jensen can smell whiskey on his breath.

“Fine,” Jensen says, voice cracking on the word. “How was Eric?”

Justin closes his eyes, shakes his head, leans into Jensen and lets his head rest in the curve of Jensen’s throat.

“Let’s go to bed.”

*

Jensen wakes up before anyone else, arms still wrapped tight around Justin, solid warmth of him pressing against Jensen, head to toe. He wakes like he does every now and then, lyrics burning inside his brain, running themselves in a loop, over and over again, feeling in his heart like he knows they’re right.

Still, he lays there for a while, morning sunlight slowly filling the room, listening to Justin breathe, feeling his fingers laced through Jensen’s, holding tight even in his sleep.

He grits his teeth, pulls away slow. Tugs on a pair of pants and walks in staggered steps out to the main room.

Chad’s still asleep on the couch, and Jensen passes him by, heading for the dining room table.

There’s a brown paper bag, still a little bit greasy with whatever food it’d carried last night. Jensen rips a scrap from it, smoothes it against the table, pen poised in his other hand.

He sets it to the paper, lets the words flow.

He stares at the words for a few minutes, tight anger closing on his heart. He throws the pen down, grabs the piece of paper and balls it in his fist. He considers the trash can in the kitchen, wonders if he can toss it into the opening from here.

In the end, he stuffs it into his pocket, fist clenching around it and squeezing.

*

They load up early and head to LA, driving half the day. 

It’s midafternoon, and the band’s gathered in the sitting area of the bus, Justin with paperwork in his hand. He’s angry, brown eyes flashing, jaw working fingers gripping the papers so hard they’re crinkling. Mike is sitting next to him, an easy arm wrapped around Justin’s shoulder against the leather seat.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me with this shit, Mike. Fucking _Fall Out Boy_ is opening the show? They’re not even fucking rock n’ roll. Since when does emo fucking open our band?”

“They’re considered pop punk,” Mike says reasonably, reaching for a glass of scotch sitting on the table and taking a sip. He’s slick and smooth as a snake in his black Armani suit.

“Even better,” Justin scoffs, throwing the papers up in the air. “Since when does fucking _pop punk_ open for a _rock_ band?” Justin demands.

“Since the amount of money we’re getting went through the roof.” Mike leans closer, looking right into Justin’s eyes. “Do you understand how much people are paying for seats to this show? How many bodies are going to be packed in that stadium? Memorial Coliseum, more than 93,000 people in the stands alone, plus all the field tickets they’re selling.”

“He’s right, Mike.” Jensen leans his back against the wall, folds his arms over his chest. “We need to support our own.”

Justin looks up, meets his eyes fiercely and nods.

It feels… good somehow. Like the old days, when they were united, the two of them against the whole fucking world.

“It’s one show, Jen. The world’s not gonna judge you based on one show.” Mike sets his glass back down on the table and smiles. “Besides, it shows that you’re accessible, open to other types of music, not so elitist that you can’t play with someone who’s got a different style.”

“I’m not thinking our fans are too concerned about that,” Jensen snorts.

“But think of all the possible fans you’re opening yourself up to by doing this. A whole different audience that you’re exposing yourselves to, now.” Mike lifts one hand in the air, draws his fingers together. “Think of the fans you stand to _gain_.” 

He might have a point… still, it’s the principle of the thing. He looks to Justin, and Justin’s looking back, as undecided as Jensen feels. 

Jensen tilts his head to the other side of the room, where Chad and Sandy are sitting, watching silently. “What do you guys think?”

“I think it’s fucking bullshit,” Chad pipes up immediately. “In fact, I think Pete fucking Wentz can suck my cock with his whiny, emo bullshit.” Chad folds his arms behind his head, settles back against the seat. “Him _and_ fucking Gerard Way.”

“Gerard Way’s not in Fall Out Boy,” Mike supplies quickly.

“Your point?” Chad asks, lifting one hand from behind his head as he takes a drag off his cigarette, brows arched in challenge against Mike.

“Sandy?” Jensen prompts.

She’s frowning, thoughtful, legs crossed, hands folded around one knee. “I’m not down with the whole genre thing,” she says, tossing her hair back over her shoulders, collection of golden scales dangling from her ears clinking together. “But. It _is_ Fall Out Boy. It could be a good opportunity to get exposure to new fans.”

Shit. Et tu, Sandy?

Sandy’s been with them since the beginning of T Minus Zero. She handles a bass onstage as good as any guy, tiny little powerhouse of playing power, temper to match the fire she brings to the stage. _And_ , Jensen has to admit, she’s the smartest of them all. The most objective, clear-headed. Her words carry weight. Which is why the room goes entirely still after she speaks.

“Shit,” Justin mutters, running his hands through his hair. It sticks up every which way in the aftermath, and Jensen loves it, tousled and natural. Justin glances up at Jensen from under his brows, still angry.

“Justy,” Mike says, leaning forward, wrapping an arm around Justin’s shoulders. Jensen feels a thin burn of anger rise against his skin at the invocation of the nickname. Jensen’s the _only_ one who’s ever called Justin that.

“I’m gonna need more convincing, Mike.” Justin’s shaking his head.

“I got your convincing right here, babe.” Mike produces a yellow pill between his fingertips like from thin air. Quaalude; Jensen recognizes it immediately.

Jensen searches Justin’s face, waits for Justin to look at him again, but Justin doesn’t. He just sighs heavily and turns toward Mike, parting his lips.

“I better get to fuck Pete Wentz,” Justin says, like it’s a warning.

Mike just smiles, pushes his fingers inside Justin’s mouth and sets the pill on his tongue, grabs Justin’s beer and hands it to him for a chaser. “I’ll see if I can arrange it.”

Justin closes his eyes, throat working, swallowing hard as he downs his beer in several quick gulps.

Jensen sighs and walks to the front of the bus.

*

“We’re playing with Fall Out Boy,” Jensen confesses to Jeff as he sits in the seat behind him.

Jeff hugs the curve of the highway and nods. “It’s an inevitability.”

Jensen tilts his head to the side, catches Jeff’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “How do you mean?”

“Two powerhouses,” Jeff shrugs, hands clenched around the steering wheel. “Put you both together in a room and it’s more money and potential fans than you’ve ever seen.”

“That’s what Mike and Sandy said.” Jensen nods.

“But you don’t agree,” Jeff says knowingly, eyes flashing up to meet Jensen’s in the rearview.

“No,” Jensen shakes his head.

“Honey, you’re in way too deep to go philosophical about this. Don’t you know that? If you wanted something true to roots, you should’ve been in a different band. You’re way past rock n’ roll; you’re icons.”

“I know,” Jensen lowers his head, nods. “I know,” he breathes. “Just sometimes… I miss the days when it was all about the music and not about the star power.”

“You and the rest of the world, Jen,” Jeff nods, sagely. “You and the rest of the world.”

Jensen takes a breath. “Justin agreed to it.”

Jeff’s jaw clenches in the rearview as he nods. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

“He never would have, three years ago,” Jensen insists.

“I know,” Jeff nods, voice gruff.

“You’re not making me feel any better,” Jensen complains, meeting Jeff’s eyes in the mirror.

Jeff grins, bitter. “That’s not what you pay me for, boy.”

“So pretend I’m not paying you to drive a bus.”

Jeff considers for a long moment. “At some point, you have to decide; is this about the love of music, or the career? Some people are lucky enough to get both, but they’re rare. You gotta ask yourself, is this where I wanna be? Is this everything I ever wanted? And if the answer is yes, then you’re one of the luckiest people on the planet.” Jeff shakes his head. “But if it’s no? You can either deal with it, or decide it’s time to move on. That simple.”

“Not simple,” Jensen mutters, hands twisting together.

“Not yet,” Jeff says, shoots Jensen a smile in the rearview.

*

The crowd is so keyed-up by the time they get onstage that Justin barely has to say anything for them to roar, arms thrust high into the air, flashbulb pop of stage lights all over their faces.

They wind the show down with _God of Wine_ \--to Jensen’s complete surprise. They’ve only played it once before, at the record release party, final track on the new album. It had been necessary to play it there, weight of it mostly lost in the blur of playing the new album onstage for thousands of important people. But now, as Justin stands under the spotlight, head thrown back, eyes closed as he sings, fingers gripping the mic like he wants to crush it, Jensen feels the words hit him like a punch to the gut.

_"Every thought that I repent,  
There's another chip you haven't spent,  
And you're cashing them all in,  
Where do we begin…?  
To get clean again…?  
Can we get clean again?"_

He can’t think about this. Not here. Not now. Jensen shifts his guitar, fingers hitting the notes with automatic precision.

_"I walk home alone with you,  
And the mood you're born into.  
Sometimes you let me in,  
And I take it on the chin.  
I can't get clean again.  
I want to know,  
Can we get clean again?"_

Justin turns his head as he sings the chorus, eyes grazing Jensen’s.

_"I can't keep it all together,  
I know... I know… I know… I can't keep it all together.  
And the siren's song that is your madness,  
Holds a truth I can't erase,  
All alone on your face"_

God, the way Justin is singing; so soulful and needing, voice rising high against the backdrop of instruments, so lonely, so longing… so exactly the way Jensen felt when he wrote the words; lost… so alone.

_"Every glamorous sunrise,  
Throws the planets out of line,  
A star sign out of whack  
A fraudulent zodiac."_

Justin’s singing for all he’s worth, and Jensen knows; Jensen knows Justin well enough to understand after all these years. It’s Justin’s way of saying he’s sorry. Sorry for agreeing to play with Fall Out Boy, sorry for… For everything.

Christ. Jensen’s heart _hurts_. He bites his lower lip, tries to focus on his chords.

_"The God of Wine is crouched down in my room,  
You let me down,  
I said it—  
Now I'm going down,  
And you're not even around.  
And I said no...  
I can't keep it all together,  
I know... I know… I know… I can't keep it all together…"_

Jensen closes his eyes against the desperate sound of Justin singing those words. 

_"And there's a memory of a window,  
Looking through  
I see you.  
Searching for something,  
I could never give you,  
And there's someone who understands you,  
More than I do.  
A sadness I can't erase.  
All alone on your face."_

The guitar dies out with the final note of Justin’s voice still hanging in the air, and the lights come down, Justin with his head bowed, eyes closed, both hands around the mic. He looks perfect, iconic, like he’s locked in prayer.

The crowd is on its feet, lighters flickering out as they thrust their fists into the air, scream out their emotion.

And Jensen… Jensen just _can’t_. Turns and walks from the stage, sound equipment doubling, tripling in his vision.

There’s a body in front of him. It’s rather huge, a little daunting, but it’s got to be someone from staff or stage.

“Dude. You okay?”

Jensen knows who it is before he looks up, recognizes that voice immediately. “Yeah, man. I’m fine,” he says, hands fisted tight. “Take care of this for me, would, you?” He passes his guitar off to Jared, and stalks backstage.

*

The suite is empty. Jensen knew it would be after the resistance they threw up against Fall Out Boy. Mike may be a slick, Hollywood-type pusher, but he’d never be dumb enough to invite everyone back to their room afterwards.

Jensen knows the rest of the band is down in the VIP room, clinking glasses and congratulating each other. Can see Justin in his mind’s eye, shoving Pete Wentz down against the couch.

He strips out of his leather pants, material clinging to his body, reluctant as he pulls them free. Yanks his t-shirt over his head and heads directly for the bed, pausing to open the night table drawer. Bag of dope, rolling papers, bowl, lighter; he’s all hooked up, unless he wants to go for the bong in the closet. He rolls himself a joint slowly, fingers crinkling the paper carefully, taking his time, licks across the edge and seals it. 

Chad arrives around 3:30am, staggering through the door when Jensen’s lighting up the last bit. “What the fuck, Jenny? You partying alone?”

“Yeah,” Jensen answers, short and sharp, dragging off the joint in his hand. He’s laid out on the bed, most of his body under the blankets, lights turned down low, glow of a single table light illuminating the room.

“Dude. _No one_ should get high _alone_ ,” Chad says falling onto the bed beside him. He’s got Jensen’s guitar slung across his body, wood smacking hard against his stomach as he falls.

“Shit,” Chad laughs. “Not used to pulling this kinda weight.” He tugs on the guitar strap.

Jensen passes off the joint without a word.

“Heavy last song, huh?” Chad asks, contemplating what Jensen’s handed him before he takes a deep drag.

“Yeah,” Jensen breathes. “S’all good, though,” he adds quickly. “It’s all just music.”

“I’d say yeah, except…” Chad’s exhaling, handing the joint back to Jensen. Chad takes the strap in both hands, yanks the guitar from around his neck and hands it off to Jensen. “Roadie gave this to me when I walked offstage. You oughta be more careful, Jen.”

“Jared’s cool,” Jensen assures, running a hand through his hair, closing it around his guitar like an afterthought. He sets it beside the bed, leaning it carefully against the night stand.

“Really?” Chad turns his head to Jensen. 

“You oughta know. You got him the job,” Jensen returns levelly, smoking hard before he hands it back to Chad.

“Yep,” Chad nods, sucking in a heavy drag. “Jared’s one of my best friends,” he nods, fingers poised around the burning tip. “But you didn’t know that. Did you?”

“No,” Jensen grates, exhaling as he snatches the roach from Chad’s hand.

“So why’d you give it to him?”

Jensen sucks around the end, feels smoke fill his lungs. Everything is slow, beautiful and wonderful. He tilts his head back, holding, then exhales in a long cloud. “Sometimes… you just get a feeling about people.”

“A feeling,” Chad echoes, nodding. “Yeah. The kind where you can hand off your twenty-thousand dollar guitar to a roadie and trust them not to run off with it and sell it for more money than you’ll ever pay them in three years. Sure. I get that.”

Jensen’s silent. 

“You know he could’ve probably sold that for over a hundred grand on ebay just ‘cause it’s yours, right?”

“It’s not worth _that_ much,” Jensen laughs, choking on smoke.

“Is to some people,” Chad nods. “Enough people,” he adds, looking at Jensen.

“Chad.” Jensen considers the end between his fingertips, distantly feeling his skin start to burn. “Why the fuck is he doing roadie work for us when he’s got a voice like that?”

Chad takes the burning cinder from Jensen’s hand, stubs it out in the ashtray. “I’ll tell you sometime, you ask me again.”

Jensen’s eyes are falling shut, body melting into the bed.

“Night, Jenny,” Chad whispers, pressing a kiss to Jensen’s forehead.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Justin barely even looks at Jensen the next morning, and Jensen’s mostly okay with that, except for how it tugs at his heart. But then, _he_ was the one who did the walking away. When they climb on the bus for a relatively short trip down to San Diego, Justin puts on his headphones, head tilting back against the couch, and Jensen can’t stand the sight of him like that, eyes closed, edges of his mouth turned down, arms folded across his chest.

Chad and Sandy are sprawled out on the leather bench seat across from Justin, Sandy dozing against Chad’s chest as Chad runs his fingers through her hair, his own eyes drifting, half-lidded. There are two interns bustling in the nearby kitchen—Katie and Lauren, if memory serves, they’ve been around a while--putting some kind of dinner together for the band, too busy arguing about using oregano or parsley to pay much attention to what everyone else is doing.

Jensen walks to Justin, bends down and puts his hands on Justin’s knees, meeting Justin’s eyes as they open, head lifting from the couch. Justin takes out his headphones, looking at Jensen with a neutral expression that makes Jensen’s chest hurt.

“Sorry about last night,” Jensen whispers, voice guttural.

Justin shrugs, shoulders rising, head tilting to the side.

“It was just… a little too much for me to deal.”

“It’s okay,” Justin says. “I get it.”

Jensen nods, takes a deep breath. “So… did you get to fuck Pete Wentz?”

Justin shrugs again, one corner of his mouth tugging upwards. “Not all he’s cracked up to be.”

Jensen smirks, bitterness curdling in his veins. “Could’ve predicted that.”

“You always know better than me, Jenny.” Justin leans forward, kisses Jensen’s mouth. “S’why I love you,” he whispers.

_Love me so much you fucked someone else last night, yeah, I understand._

The words want to leave Jensen’s mouth, but he knows what they’ll do. How they’ll hit Justin like daggers, body flinching against the wounds. Raging arguments, revisiting history that Jensen would rather leave buried. And it’s not like Jensen is any better. He’s done his share. Jensen wouldn’t even care, didn’t care in the beginning, because he knew Justin was _his_ , no matter who they fucked. But he doesn’t feel that anymore. Hasn’t felt it in a long time.

Jensen kisses Justin back, closes his eyes, mouth straining hard, tongue slipping inside Justin’s mouth with desperation. Justin winds his arms around Jensen’s shoulders and pulls him in. 

“I love you, too,” Jensen whispers. 

*

Jensen hits the stage early to do a sound check, and there’s Jared, kneeling in front of a stack of speakers and components.

“Hey, Jensen,” Jared smiles, rising to his feet. “I see you got your guitar back okay.”

“Yeah,” Jensen nods, stopping. He’s totally not going to think about Jared getting fucked up against a wall. He’s totally _not_. “Thanks for that by the way.”

“Looked like a hard night, dude. Figured it was the least I could do.”

He’s still not thinking about Jared getting fucked against the wall.

“Hey,” Jensen says, suddenly curious. “How are you liking this gig? You think you’re gonna stick around a while?” 

“It’s a good gig,” Jared nods. “Yeah,” he grins, tilting his head to the side, hair falling forward into his face. “I think I’ll be here a while.”

Jensen has a sudden urge to tuck Jared’s hair back behind his ear. “Good.”

“I’d say something like, kick their asses onstage tonight, but you do that every night.” Jared grins, shoves his hands into his pockets. “So have a good time, dude.”

“Always do,” Jensen nods.

“Yeah,” Jared says, biting his lower lip, and fuck, why is that so _hot?_

“See you, Jensen.”

*

The San Diego show is blessedly stress-free. They do the usual new album set plus a couple songs from _Essence of Arrival_ and finish out with one from _Sonic Rebel Invasion_. Justin doesn’t throw any surprises Jensen’s way and Jensen’s relieved when he walks offstage.

The party is in their room tonight, and Jensen couldn’t be less interested. He’s tired. It’s been a rough couple of days, and all he wants to do is chill on the couch with his band and Mike, smoke a joint and toss back a couple of beers. 

Clearly, that’s not going to happen.

The room is packed with people, laughing, talking, and drinking. Off to one side of the room, the opening band and a couple of groupies are clustered around the dining table, chopping up crystals and snorting lines off a mirror. Jensen’s half tempted to go ask them for a line—meth would definitely give him the energy to get through this--but he doesn’t even know their names, and that always gets awkward. He’s not fucked up enough not to care right now, either.

As if on cue, Chad shoves a shot of tequila into his hand.

“Chaser?” Jensen asks with a grin.

“Shit. We don’t need no stinkin’ chasers,” Chad laughs, and then someone else puts a bottle of beer in Jensen’s other hand.

Good enough.

Five, six, seven shots of tequila, and magically, Jensen doesn’t care about anything anymore. The wonders of alcohol. Chad tries shoving another shot at Jensen, other hand locked around the neck of the tequila bottle and Jensen shakes his head, goes to find space on a couch somewhere.

Sandy’s lazing back against the corner of a bright orange art-deco couch facing the TV, and Jensen sinks in next to her, wiggling his hips to fit between people.

“Hey you,” she says. Sandy looks as tired as Jensen feels, perfectly painted pink mouth stretching into a half-smile for him. When Sandy smiles, it’s like the sun bursting out from behind the clouds—Jensen’s never not been able to smile back. She’s so pretty, tiny and delicate, dusky skin, dark hair and dark eyes lined in huge rings of black kohl, still dressed head to toe in leather, her signature pink and black colors. Jensen can still remember clearly the first time they met her, when she’d auditioned for their new band. All business until she got up on the stage and played her heart out, thrumming out bass-lines that would make Les Claypool stop and stare.

Jensen had been ready to hire her on spirit and talent alone, and then she’d set her bass down, walked up to them, skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, lit a cigarette and fallen down into a chair beside them, like it was nothing, no big deal. Opened her perfectly pink glossy lips and asked them, _“You guys got a CPA?”_

Sandy plays hardball, she’s fucking smart and careful and concise with her decisions, but once you get to know her, she’s got this warm, caring heart underneath. She’s not half as hard as she seems sometimes. He feels for her; it’s a tough industry for women, and no matter how good you are, you're probably gonna have to harden and wise up a little to get by and get somewhere. 

He can feel her, curve of her hip pushing hard into Jensen’s and she shifts away from the corner, leans against Jensen’s body, chin resting on his shoulder.

“You look as tired as I feel.”

“Am,” she nods.

“Where’s a bump when you need one?” Jensen asks, and Sandy chuckles.

“On the table over there,” Sandy half-points in the direction of the opening band.

“Yeah. I don’t know their names.”

“Me neither,” Sandy shrugs. “That’s why I didn’t ask.”

Jensen laughs. “Me, too.”

“I need to get laid,” she sighs, nuzzling against Jensen’s shoulder.

Sandy gets laid the least of all of them, and Jensen knows that’s by choice—women have to think about their reputation a lot more. Jensen’s been teasing her for years that she should just get together with Chad and seal the incestuous union of the band. 

“You wanna go somewhere? I could take one for the team,” Jensen grins, winking at her.

Sandy laughs, smoothes her hair behind one ear. “You don’t even like girls.”

“I’d try for you, babe,” Jensen leans in, kisses her cheek.

Sandy smiles, eyes half-lidded as she looks up at him. “Think I’m just gonna take a nap instead of making you suffer.”

Jensen wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulls her in. “My shoulder’s all yours.”

Sandy’s passed out cold and Jensen’s eyelids are drifting shut when Justin bounces by. Jensen reaches out, grabs him by a belt loop and swings him down into Jensen’s lap. Sandy groans, leans back towards the end of the couch. And well, she’ll understand that Jensen’s shoulder is all hers except for when Justin happens along.

“Hey,” Justin grins, his weight settling against Jensen as he twines his arms around Jensen’s shoulders and kisses him. “You look tired.”

“I am,” Jensen nods. Justin on the other hand, looks bright eyed, cheeks flushed, and Jensen’s pretty sure he knows why.

“Got one for me?”

“Always.” Justin leans his forehead against Jensen’s, reaches into his pocket and pulls out his sniffer vial. He puts it under Jensen’s nose, and Jensen lays a finger on the other, snorts. He feels the coke hit the back of his throat with a bitter, acrid taste, and Christ he hates that. He takes another one in the other nostril and he’s already feeling the warm buzz, the rush of it hitting his system, heart speeding up just a bit. The way everything feels just a little sharper, a little brighter, a little more intense. 

“Better?”

“Mmmhm.”

Justin does a bump, too, shoves the vial into his pocket again.

Justin feels good in his arms, solid and warm, and Jensen’s high, half-drunk. Cocaine always makes him feel like everything’s sexier. Justin’s gorgeous, eyeliner smudged, fading out deep under his eyes, hair a tousled mess from sweating onstage. He smells like salt and musk and Jensen’s tongue flickers out, licks a stripe up Justin’s throat, tasting him. Arms crushing him against Jensen’s chest, point of his jaw tilting up to give Jensen better access, body shuddering against Jensen.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks, breathing the words into Justin’s ear, hands running down Justin’s side to his hips, squeezing, body grinding into him.

Justin’s mouth curls in a smile, breathing out hard. “Think Mike’ll miss us?”

“What’s he gonna do?” Jensen asks. “Fire us?” Jensen bites Justin’s lower lip, hands sliding up under his shirt, grabbing him around the waist, fingers digging into his skin. God he feels _good_. 

“Yeah,” Justin whispers, hands tugging Jensen’s hair. “Good point.” Justin backs up off the couch and grabs Jensen’s hand. Justin pulls him through the sea of the crowd a couple of steps, then stops, kissing Jensen hard and deep.

“Give me one sec,” Justin says. He lets go of Jensen’s hand and slides off through the crowd. 

“Where are you going?”

“To get us a room,” Justin grins with a wink, and Jensen shakes his head.

The crowd opens up, and Jensen can see Jared, sitting around the table with the opening band, kicked back in a chair, long legs stretched out in a lazy sprawl, hand holding a beer bottle between them. Jared glances over, sees Jensen and lifts his beer a little higher, tips it at Jensen in acknowledgement.

Jensen nods back, starting to smile when Justin laces his fingers through Jensen’s again, and kisses the side of Jensen’s neck. “Ready?”

Jared looks away, takes a quick drink from his beer, neck flexing as he swallows. And what a truly fucking magnificent neck it is.

“Yeah.” Jensen lets Justin pull him through the room, leading him down the hotel hallway a few doors.

Justin kisses him and Jensen catches himself wondering what Jared would kiss like; soft and gentle, hard and urgent, or a slow burn, like this, heat building between them. Justin rubs up against him, nips at Jensen’s lower lip, and Jensen grabs him by the hips, pushes him on the bed.

The great thing about coke is that if you can get hard on it, you can go forever. Jensen’s never had a problem getting hard while he’s on _anything_. Justin swears Jensen could still get hard if he was _dead_. 

Justin’s only half-hard, and that’s fine, because Jensen plans on taking full advantage of having an empty room and as much time as they want. Jensen strips him, slicks his own cock and nudges inside one slow inch at a time, not bothering with prep, and Justin’s already starting to writhe underneath him, begging Jensen to push deeper, faster, fuck him raw and senseless.

Jensen fucks him for hours, until they’re both drenched in sweat; slipping, sliding against each other, Jensen’s face dripping as he seals his mouth over Justin’s. He flips them over, then, Justin’s hips rocking into his, skin shiny, droplets of sweat pouring down his body. He’s so beautiful, chest arching out as he leans back, reaches behind his body and puts his hands on Jensen’s thighs, riding Jensen at a slow gallop. Legs spread around Jensen’s body, cock jutting up and out at an angle from their bodies, stomach muscles rolling under his skin, hips twisting, gasping as he rubs his own sweet spot against Jensen’s cock again and again. Jensen bites his lower lip, fingertips resting on Justin’s thighs and just takes in the view, Justin’s body pulling, tugging against Jensen’s dick, sinking down slow to take him deep.

Fuck. Justin’s never hotter than when he’s like this, riding Jensen with that exquisite body. Knowing hands on Jensen’s skin, perfect rhythm rocking into Jensen.

Jensen lets Justin ride him until Justin’s arms are quivering, muscles straining, and then Jensen grabs Justin by the hips, drives into him with quick, sharp thrusts, Justin’s fingernails digging sharp half moons into Jensen’s stomach. Fucking Justin isn’t like fucking anyone else. Justin’s always so given to it, so _into_ it, completely unrestrained. Jensen runs his fingertips over the head of Justin’s cock, watches Justin’s hips stutter, and then Jensen wraps his fingers around the crown, squeezing, tugging.

Justin comes all over him, striping him from belly to chest, hips rocking senselessly against Jensen as Jensen drives into him, violently deep, coming like an explosion as Justin convulses around him. There’s nothing like coming on coke, either. Jensen gasps, orgasm sweeping through him quick and hard, so fucking intense, muscles clenching as he shoots inside Justin, Justin still spattering his stomach with come.

“Jesus fuck,” Justin pants, falling against Jensen’s chest.

Jensen smiles, runs a hand through the dripping mess of Justin’s hair.

“There’s nobody like you, Jen,” Justin whispers, mouthing a kiss against Jensen’s throat.

The smile fades from Jensen’s lips. He takes a breath, wraps his arms around Justin and pulls him into a tight hug.

When he wakes up an hour later, they’re still tangled around each other and morning sunlight is slanting in through the hotel room blinds. He sits up, disoriented, Justin sliding from his arms with a groan. There’s a couple in the other bed in the room, some guy Jensen vaguely recognizes from the crew and some chick he’s sure he’s never seen before. 

“Justin.” Jensen shakes Justin’s shoulder and Justin groans again, rolls over and wraps his arms around Jensen’s waist, leg sliding over both of Jensen’s. Jensen shakes his head. Justin’s always been a clingy sleeper.

“Hey. We gotta go,” Jensen says, shaking Justin again. “Mike’s gonna freak if we’re nowhere to be found when he wakes up.”

Justin murmurs something slurred and Jensen sighs, leans down and whispers into Justin’s ear. “Need another bump?”

Justin’s eyes flutter open, blinking at Jensen. “You get it for me? I’m pretty fuckin’ tired…”

“No rest for the wicked, babe,” Jensen grunts, hauling Justin to his feet.

*

That turns out not to be exactly true. Turns out, they’ve got an extra day before they leave for Portland, and they load up the bus and head back to their studio home in LA. Mike’s pretty good about driving them right to the edge and then giving them a day or two off. He doesn’t want anyone dropping from exhaustion. Of course, time off always carries its own particular brand of risk.

People scatter as soon as they hit the driveway, and Jensen’s just getting off the bus when Chad drives by in one of the house cars, sunglasses on, grinning and waving goodbye to Jensen. Jensen shoots him a rueful smile and waves back. Mike is gonna be _so_ pissed.

Their bedroom is just the way they left it, except that there’s not a speck of dust to be found anywhere and all the trashcans are empty. The room smells fresh, blankets and sheets radiating the sweet scent of dryer sheets. They have roadies, interns, groupies, a manager, and hundreds of thousands of fans--and it’s _still_ weird to Jensen that they have maids.

Jensen peels off the stage clothes he’d shoved back on when he’d woken up, cursing with a sigh of relief. Fucking leather pants, man. They’re not meant to be worn for anything except looks. He tosses them into the corner, gesture so familiar that it calls up years of memories.

This is where they’d spent a year of the happiest time of their lives. Finally together, able to _be_ together without the public eye watching, making music in the studio every day, talking about songs and lyrics and working out the particulars of the songs. That was the year this house became “home”. More home, even, than the house Jensen grew up in.

There, are the scuffs against the wall where they tossed their boots, and there, by the bathroom door is the dent where Justin had kicked the wall in a drunken rage. The singing and guitar trophies on the shelf over the dresser, and Jensen can name each and every one, remembers where they all came from, what they did that night, what they were wearing—always both of them onstage, one silent while the other accepted. Four bottles of champagne lined up along the dresser itself; one shared between them for each album they’ve finished.

Jensen sets his bag down next to the bed and sits down on it, unbuttoning his short-sleeved shirt. He throws it into the corner too, and sighs, eyes drifting up to the pictures stuck in the frame of the dresser mirror. Him with Justin at seventeen, eighteen, and then, nineteen—when they’d hit the big time—kissing and pouring champagne over each other’s heads.

Jensen bites down, turns his face away before he gets to the later pictures. Stands up from the bed with a sigh. Justin will be here any minute, most likely, and he…

He pulls on a pair of sunglasses and shorts and nothing else, clips on his iPod, grabs a notebook and a towel and heads downstairs to the pool. There’s at least twenty people there, most of them splashing around in the pool, a few gathered in the seating area in the water, passing around a joint. Jensen thinks about heading back to his room for a minute, then shrugs and stretches out in a long chair, back angled up, feet stretched out. He cues up his iPod and puts in his headphones. The sun feels good on his skin, warm breeze coasting over his body, eyes half-lidded behind his glasses.

Last night’s lack of sleep catches up with him a few minutes later and his eyes slip almost closed, drifting on the verge of falling asleep. He catches a glimpse of something big moving towards him and blinks, opening his eyes all the way.

And then he sees who it is.

Jared’s walking by him, hugely muscled body naked except for a pair of swimming trunks, skin glistening with sun tan oil, hair blown back from his face in the breeze. He’s sculpted and gleaming like some kind of sex god, and Jensen sits up in his seat, sliding his sunglasses down to the end of his nose as he turns his head, watching Jared walk past.

Jesus motherfucking Christ on a crutch. Jared’s not just built, he’s fucking _superhumanly_ built. 

Jensen watches the muscles ripple in Jared’s back as his arms swing back and forth, perfect calf muscles flexing into an upside-down heart shape with each step.

Jensen opens his mouth, maybe to say hi, or call Jared back, and then changes his mind as Jared turns, walking to the diving board. Pecs and abs, ripped and perfectly cut, a tiny trail of hair winding under his belly button, ending at his swim trunks, the inner line of his hips just peeking above the edge, and hip bones jutting out from his slim waist. He steps to the end of the board, raises his massive arms over his head and dives, body cutting the water with smooth grace.

A couple of people jump and laugh, surprised by the sudden dive, and Jared surfaces, laughing, shaking water from his hair, sunlight catching on the droplets. 

Some dark haired girl in the pool swims up to Jared and throws an arm around him, talking into his ear. Her eyes flick upward in Jensen’s general direction, not really focusing on him, more just looking around as she speaks to Jared. Jensen suddenly realizes that he’s staring and slides his sunglasses back on, leaning back in his chair. He laces his fingers together against his belly, tilts his head back, probably appearing to everyone else in the world as if he’s asleep.

Jared turns his head to listen to the girl talking to him, meets Jensen’s eyes through Jensen’s sunglasses. Jensen knows Jared can’t tell what Jensen’s looking at, but it’s still unsettling as fuck. Jared’s eyes travel down Jensen’s body slowly, taking his time, totally checking Jensen out. And then he turns, laughing with the girl beside him as he answers her.

Jensen watches from behind the safety of his sunglasses. Jared’s animated and smiling, swirling a hand through the water as he nods at the girl, and some other guy swims up, claps a hand against Jared’s shoulder and says something to him. They move to the shallow end of the pool as Jared answers, completely at ease, and some other guy slaps a beer into Jared’s hand before he sits down in the circle-shaped seating area of the pool. They clink bottles and drink, and then Jared leans back against the edge of the pool, elbows resting on the lip, chest arching out.

There’s a presence about him, an ease and familiarity, a kind of energy. Why the fuck isn’t he--

Someone taps Jensen on the shoulder and he startles, sitting up and pulling his headphones out. 

Mike’s sitting on the long chair across from him, some guy Jensen’s never seen before sitting next to him.

“Hey, Jen,” Mike says, flashing a smile. “I hate to interrupt your down time, but,” Mike inclines his head at the guy next to him. “EW wants an interview.”

“Actually,” the guy says, opening a notepad, “I was hoping for Jensen _and_ Justin.”

“I’ll find him,” Mike nods, rising from the chair.

“But we can start,” the journalist says to Jensen, setting his pen against the paper. “What were you just listening to?”

Jensen doesn’t have _any_ idea—he lost track around the time Jared walked by.

“Sorry,” Jensen says with a smile. “I was sleeping. You know how it is when a band’s on tour. Gotta grab it where you can get it.”

“Who do you usually listen to?” the guy asks.

Jensen bites back a sigh, buckles in and gets ready for an hour of questions.

*

Justin actually makes the interview, and he’s _got_ to be bumping to beat all hell, because he’s wide awake and all over the interview. Jensen can never resist Justin when he’s riled up like this, so into it without being totally out of control, and Jensen finds himself grinning, shooting sideways looks at Justin, Justin nudging into his shoulder, looking back. They’ve always had this way of playing off each other that’s mostly lost on other people, and by the end, the interviewer looks a hell of a lot more impressed than when he showed up.

When he’s gone, Justin wraps an arm around Jensen’s neck, thumb brushing against the spot behind Jensen’s ear that drives Jensen absolutely crazy.

Mike’s voice rings out against the air, loud and undeniable. “Hey, Justin!” Mike yells. “Get your sweet ass over here. Someone I want you to meet.”

“No rest for the wicked,” Justin whispers, pressing a soft kiss to Jensen’s mouth before he slips away.

He watches Justin bound off towards Mike and some hotass guy in a suit with slicked back hair and sunglasses.

Jensen folds his hands together, glances down at the ground, and then looks back to the pool. Jared’s not there anymore, nowhere around the pool at all.

Jensen’s… tired. He grabs his notebook, slings his towel over his shoulder and heads off to bed.

*

He wakes to his cell phone ringing, blinking blearily and looking at the time before he looks at the caller ID. Shit. Fucking nine o’clock at night? He slept that long? Seriously?

He clicks the button, presses the phone to his ear, letting his eyes sink closed again. “Justin… what’s up?”

“Jen.” Justin sounds frantic, panicked, and Jensen tenses. “I need help.”

“Where the hell are you?” Jensen asks, sitting up. 

“I don’t know. Jen, I’m _really_ fucked up.”

“Okay,” Jensen breathes deep, tries to stay calm. “Who’s there with you?”

“I was here with Sharon and James, but I think they left.”

God _dammit_. Fucking groupies.

“Justin. Give the phone to the person next to you—and don’t let them leave with it,” Jensen adds quickly. That’s _all_ he fucking needs.

Jensen can hear Justin having a muffled conversation in the background, and then there’s some chick with a slow, drunken voice on the phone.

“Whose house are you at?” Jensen demands.

“Who is this?”

“Can you just tell me where you are? Do you know the address?”

The chick’s voice goes far away for a minute, and then she’s yelling for someone.

“Hey, yeah,” some guy says, coming on the line. “This is Tommy.”

“Tommy, do you know whose house you’re at?”

“House…” Tommy sounds confused. “Wait. Yeah. I think it’s mine. Is this my house?” he asks someone in the background.

Twenty excruciating minutes later, Jensen’s finally got an address.

Jensen’s down the stairs, snatching car keys from the board in the kitchen when Mike yells after him.

“Jen, where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Jensen spins on Mike, pissed. “To go pick up Justin. He’s at some fucking party where he doesn’t know anybody, tripping balls. _Everybody’s_ tripping balls, having a fucking backyard roast and thinking they’re eating somebody named Hank.” 

Mike’s eyes go wide.

“I can’t believe you fucking let him leave with a bunch of groupies who could give a fuck what happens to him. You _know_ how he gets when he stays awake this long.”

“I didn’t _let_ him do anything, Jen. He just left.”

Jensen turns the keys over in his hands, tries to push down how angry he is. It’s not Mike’s fault. Jensen knows better than anybody how Justin can get. 

“Okay,” Jensen sighs, rubbing at his brow. “Let’s go get him.”

Jensen stays on the phone with Justin the whole way. When they get to the house, there are cars everywhere, loud music thumping from inside. There are a couple of people just sort of… wandering around the front yard, one girl in a blue t-shirt sitting crouched at the base of a tree, staring off into space. There are at least a hundred people at the party, and it takes Jensen about fifteen minutes to find Justin curled up in the corner.

“Come on, Justy,” Jensen whispers, kissing him gently. “Let’s go back to the house.”

“Jen, I ate some of him,” Justin confesses, clutching at Jensen’s shirt.

“It’s not a person, it’s a pig,” Jensen says patiently, looking into Justin’s hugely dilated pupils. “Mike checked.” He _did_ , too, muttering that the last fucking thing they need is a lawsuit for murder and cannibalism.

“It’s not.” Justin shakes his head violently. “It’s Hank.”

“Who the fuck is Hank?” Mike murmurs and Jensen feels a sick laugh building in his throat, because this is just too fucking ridiculous and bizarre.

“We’re leaving,” Jensen says, voice soft as he gets an arm under Justin’s shoulder.

“Debby told me I fucked Lou,” Justin breathes into Jensen’s ear like it’s his most secret shame.

“Who’s Lou?” Jensen frowns. Justin fucks a _lot_ of people—he’s never ashamed.

Justin points out an old man sitting on the couch. He’s pot-bellied and sucking on a cigarette, bald head, white stubble on his chin and cheeks, thick glasses perched on his nose. He looks like he could be somebody’s grandpa except for the sharp look in his eyes, the way he’s dragging on his cigarette and watching two girls dance together. 

Jensen’s about ninety percent sure Justin hasn’t fucked a single soul tonight considering his condition. And, he’s about ninety percent sure that Lou’s about as gay as your average redneck.

“Debby’s tripping her ass off,” Jensen assures.

“I fucked _Lou_ ,” Justin almost sobs, and all Jensen can do is hold him tight. Mike exchanges a look with Jensen and Jensen shakes his head in answer to the unasked question. Jensen would be fucking _amazed_ if anyone at this party even _recognized_ Justin, much less fucked him.

“Are you sure?” Mike hisses.

“Have you _seen_ how completely fucked these people are?” he whispers to Mike. Mike takes a look around at the wide eyes, the people staggering and stumbling, lingering on one guy who’s staring at a house plant like he’s just fallen in love with it.

“Okay,” Mike nods.

They’ve barely gotten Justin in the car--Jensen in the backseat and Justin clinging to him like a lifeline while Mike drives—when Mike’s phone rings.

“Hello? Yeah?” There’s a long pause, so long that Jensen glances up, tries to catch the expression on Mike’s face in the rearview.

“Yes. I understand. Thank you.”

Mike hangs up the phone and throws it down on the seat. “Fuck.”

“What?”

Mike shakes his head and gives a bitter laugh. “Chad’s in jail.”

“Shit. For what this time?”

“Drunk driving,” Mike says, catching Jensen’s eye in the mirror. “And indecent exposure.”

They both crack up then, eyes locked in the rearview. 

*

Justin freaks out when he sees the police station, convinced he’s going to jail, and Mike ends up having to park a block away and walk.

“That’s… my _hand_ ,” Justin informs Jensen, staring at said hand with severe gravity.

“I should’ve hit Tommy up for some acid before we left,” Jensen says and shakes his head. 

*

Chad’s still too fucked up to drive the house car back. Mike takes the other car, and Jensen loads Justin into the passenger seat of Chad’s car. He walks around, opens the back door for Chad, glances inside--

“Dude. Why is there dog food all over the back seat?”

Chad takes a deep breath. “See. There was this chick,” Chad starts to say.

Jensen busts out laughing—because, whatever a chick has to do with dog food-- “Dude, I don’t _even_ wanna know how that story ends.”

“Best story I never told,” Chad grins, sliding into the seat with the crunch of dog food.

Jensen slams the door, still chuckling as he gets behind the wheel.

*

The peak of the trip is hitting Justin hard core as they get back to the house, and Jensen wonders what the hell else he’s on, or how many hits he took, because Justin’s almost completely incoherent. Chad’s passed out in the backseat, and Jensen tries shaking him twice before he gives up. He decides to come back after he’s gotten Justin to bed.

“I’ll get him,” Mike tells Jensen as he walks up.

Jensen climbs the stairs, rounds the corner holding Justin up with one shoulder. He’s not paying much attention as he puts one foot in front of the other, other shoulder scraping the wall, eyes focused on the plush red carpet.

And then, suddenly, Justin’s weight gets incredibly light. Jensen looks over, sees Jared—dressed in jeans and a t-shirt now—holding up Justin’s other shoulder, Justin’s arm wrapped around his neck.

“Crazy night?” Jared asks, like it’s a normal conversation, and Jensen couldn’t explain the relief that washes through him if he tried.

“Yeah.” Jensen nods, then adds, “ For him.” 

“You sober?” Jared asks.

It occurs to Jensen then, that he actually _is_. Huh. “Yeah.”

“So what happened to him?” Jared asks as Jensen opens their bedroom door.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Jensen grunts as they struggle to maneuver Justin through the doorway.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve seen some pretty crazy shit in this business,” Jared laughs. 

They get Justin on the bed and Jensen tucks a pillow under Justin’s head, sits down at the end of the bed. He lifts Justin’s foot between his hands, settles the sole against his chest and starts unlacing Justin’s boot as he explains to Jared what happened. By the end of the story, Justin’s boots are on the floor and Jared’s sitting on the corner of the bed, elbows on his knees.

“So _why_ did they think they were eating Hank?” Jared asks, frowning.

Jensen has to laugh, because, yeah. “You expect a hundred people tripping on more acid than Woodstock to make sense?” 

“More importantly,” Jared goes on, “did they think eating him was _okay_?”

Jensen thinks about that for a second. “I did get the sense of general ‘okayness’ with the whole thing,” Jensen nods.

“Hunh.”

“Justin wasn’t okay with it,” Jensen adds. 

“He’s lucky to have you looking out for him.”

Jensen rubs the back of his neck, shifts on the bed, leaning back on one elbow beside Justin’s calves. “He’s not always like this,” Jensen says, eyes trailing up Justin’s body to his sleeping face. “He’s just… been awake on coke for the past two days and when he gets like that, he gets stupid.”

“Oh, I know how it goes, dude,” Jared shrugs. “I meant he’s lucky to have you, is all.” 

Jensen looks down at the bed. “How do you know that’s true?”

“Because you’re here,” Jared says, simply, lifting his hands to encompass the scene.

Jensen doesn’t get this guy at _all;_ this almost complete stranger, helping him out, hanging with him through this. “Why are _you_ here, Jared?”

“Looked like you could use some help,” he shrugs.

That’s either the most bullshit or honest answer Jensen’s ever heard. “You always help people out like this?”

Jared shrugs one shoulder, hesitates a second before answering, pursing his lips. “I just thought you could use a hand. Maybe somebody to hang out with while he sleeps it off.”

“’Cause you’ve got nothing else to do?”

“No.” Jared’s shoulder muscles tense underneath his shirt, Jensen can see it. “I’ve got plenty of other things I could be doing.”

He’s making Jared uncomfortable. He should really change the subject. But Jared’s an anomaly, someone who seems honest and real and truly decent, and in this world, that’s not something Jensen encounters a lot. He has to know. “Then why aren’t you?”

“You want me to leave,” Jared says, starting to rise from the bed, “I will.”

“No.” Jensen licks his lips, shakes his head. “I just wanted to know.”

Jared hesitates, easing back down against the bed, fingers laced together as he debates his answer. “I’m not pretending I understand what’s going on… but I’ve listened to your music. And… somebody putting that much of themselves out there.” Jared pauses, nods, turns to look at Jensen. “It means something. It’s easy to write songs about sex, drugs and rock and roll… but it takes a different kind of person to step up and say something from their heart.” Jared squeezes his hands together, eyes ticking away from Jensen’s. “Someone like that deserves support.”

Jensen’s heard similar things from fans, from interviewers. And this Jared guy, he’s _way_ too easy to be around, and Jensen’s been around the block more than couple of times. “How do you know there’s an ounce of me in what I write?”

“Because you can’t write songs like that unless you feel them,” Jared returns, not backing down a bit.

“So you’re a fan.” Jensen smirks. Yeah, maybe he’s got this guy’s number after all.

“Wouldn’t be roadie-ing for your band if I thought it sucked,” Jared says with a smirk of his own. “We’re supposed to be a family, take care of our own. That’s just how it is.”

That’s an answer Jensen wasn’t expecting. Jared seems… so sincere, so _level_. Jensen tilts his head at Jared, squinting as he sizes Jared up. 

“Are you for fucking real?” Jensen asks, not sure.

“It’s how it should be.” 

Okay, yeah, true. But. No. This does not jive. “Wasn’t it you, like a week ago that told me you thought I was some kind of stuck up pretty boy?”

“Yeah,” Jared nods, lips drawing together, cheek bones coming into sharp focus. “But you aren’t.”

“And that’s…” Jensen shakes his head, trying to understand. “That’s what made you decide to stick with this gig?”

“No,” Jared says, shooting him a smooth smile. “It was when you asked me if I was gonna stick with this gig like it actually mattered. When the band cares… that’s when it’s worth staying for.” Jared angles his head, looks over at Jensen. “You telling me you really don’t get that?”

Jensen really _does_. That’s kind of what’s bothering him. That, and Jensen’s suddenly finding it hard not to remember what Jared looks like in swim trunks.

“I get that,” Jensen says, meeting Jared’s eyes as he nods. Can’t keep his gaze from dropping to Jared’s mouth. “What I don’t get is why you’re not--”

Jensen’s phone rings and he pauses, lips parted, pulls it from his pocket. It’s Mike, and Jensen shoots Jared a quick look of ‘sorry, but I have to take this’ before he answers.

“Jen, how’s Justin?”

Jensen glances over at Justin’s face, lashes resting against his cheeks, head tilted back. “He’s sleeping it off. How’s Chad?”

Jared frowns at the mention of Chad’s name, and Jensen remembers then, what Chad said to him when he was imminently stoned in LA. He claps his hand over the mouthpiece, whispers at Jared, “Chad’s fine. Arrested for drunk driving, and indecent exposure. We got him back, he’s probably sleeping.”

The smile that plays around Jared’s mouth is as pretty as it is knowing.

“He’s good,” Mike answers. “Sandy’s with him now. I’m on my way.”

“You’re coming up?” Jensen asks, sitting up.

“Gotta check in on my boys,” Mike says with easy grace.

Jared gives Jensen a nod of understanding, leans across the bed. “I should go.” The words are whispered, soft and warm against Jensen’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine, Jared leaning close to him. He smells like chlorine, sweat and suntan oil. Jensen’s jaw slides toward Jared’s for a split second, and then Mike says Jensen’s name.

“Yeah,” Jensen answers. “I’m here.”

Jared, leaning close to him across Justin’s passed out body, with Mike on his way.

“See you,” Jared whispers.

“Sorry,” Jensen whispers back.

“S’all good,” Jared breathes and then pulls up from the bed. “Part of the lifestyle.”

Jensen watches Jared walk out, Mike talking into his ear.

*

Justin sleeps for twelve hours in bed, still half-asleep as Jensen helps him onto the bus. Justin collapses into his bunk and sleeps for the rest of the trip.

Jensen checks in on him every so often, watching daylight play over the angles of his face, the sharp musculature of his body. 

At three o’clock when he goes to check in, he folds his arms against the mattress, rests his chin between his hands, and stares out the window.

He needs to be drunk, high, something. Something besides this.

*

He doesn’t see Justin again until they’re backstage in San Francisco at 8PM, Jensen in the middle of tuning his guitar while Nancy fusses over Sandy’s make-up.

“Dude, we thought you were dead,” Jensen comments as Justin walks into the room. “Mike’s doing auditions for a new lead singer.”

Justin rolls his eyes at Jensen, snatches a cup of coffee from Katie’s waiting hand.

“You’re welcome,” Katie throws over her shoulder as she walks away, and Justin rolls his eyes at her, too, tipping the cup up. He drains it in one long drink then holds, fingers flexing around the handle before he slams it down on the wooden table next to Jensen.

“Justin,” Jensen sighs. “What the fuck were you doing with groupies, anyway? You know better.”

“It was a crazy day,” Justin says, running a hand through his hair.

“I know, dude,” Jensen says, level as he can manage. “You were eating Hank and fucking Lou.”

“You weren’t there, motherfucker,” Justin says, pointing at him.

“No,” Jensen says, lowering his head and tuning his guitar, eyes fixed on what he’s doing. “I wasn’t.”

Justin doesn’t say anything else.

*

When the lights come on, Justin takes the stage and gets the crowd going so loud that they’re roaring. When he calls out the first song, it’s not the one on the set list for tonight. Jensen changes his fingering on the frets and glances over at Sandy in surprise. She shakes her head and shrugs, strumming the opening chords, Jensen following her lead.

Justin’s strutting, stomping as he dances around the stage, and the crowd probably can’t tell, but the whole band knows Justin’s pissed.

Finally, when Justin’s done a full tour of all the heaviest songs on the new album, he winds down a little bit. He keeps calling song by song, though; until at the end of the show, he calls one of the songs he penned himself for Nascent Descent that didn’t make the album cut. 

_God dammit, Justin._

Jensen closes his eyes and steels himself. He’s played this a handful of times. He remembers how it goes—he just wishes he fucking didn’t. There’s a reason there was a three year gap between _Essence of Arrival_ and _Nascent Descent_ , and this song is a painful reminder of why. Jensen hits the opening chord with a long, angry swing of his hand, plays the intro and grinds his teeth together until they hurt.

_“I think I've reached that point”_

Justin shouts the opening line, belting out the rest--

_“Where giving up and going on  
are both the same dead end to me  
are both the same old song_

_I think I've reached that point  
where every wish has come true  
and tired disguised oblivion  
is everything I do”_

Jensen turns his head away, plays on while he lets his eyes travel the hard wood floor to the backstage area.

_“Please stop loving me  
Please stop loving me  
I am none of these things”_

Justin sings the chorus, ragged, so loudly that he’s almost yelling, Jensen’s guitar work backing him, blending together in perfect melody.

_“I think I've reached that point  
where all the things you have to say  
and hopes for something more from me  
are just games to pass the time away._

_Please stop loving me  
Please stop loving me  
I am none of these things”_

Jensen plays the solo, fingers hitting the strings with more force than is strictly necessary, rubbing them and making them warp just a little, wail with twisted resonance, bracing himself for the final verse.

_“I think I've reached that point  
where every word that you write  
of every blood dark sea  
and every soul black night  
and every dream you dream me in  
and every perfect free from sin  
and burning eyes  
and hearts on fire  
are just the same old song.”_

God. Justin’s voice, so haggard and _old_ , rich and infused with a lifetime of pain. Justin knows this song fucking kills Jensen, and by the time they get to the final chorus, Jensen’s just as pissed as Justin was earlier.

_“Please stop loving me  
Please stop loving me  
I am none of these things  
I am none of these things”_

Long, drawn out guitar note, Jensen’s fingers practically snapping the pick in half.

_“I am… none of these things.”_

Justin sings the final words a capella in a low, guttural voice like a whisper, so sad and cynical, uttered with complete finality.

The fans erupt into cheering as Justin’s voice dies out, and Justin bows, fingers nearly brushing the floor. Drops the mic and lets it roll away from his feet. Stands and raises his arms once, spotlight searing him, face lifted to the crowd, and then he turns, walks offstage.

Jensen lifts a hand to the cheering masses as the spotlight rotates to him, and the second it’s off him, so is his guitar, neck gripped tight in his fingers.

He’s behind the curtain, almost offstage when Chad grabs him, fingers closing on the shoulder of Jensen’s leather jacket and holding tight. “Dude? Are you guys okay?”

Jensen spins around, Chad’s hand falling away.

“We haven’t been okay in a long fucking time, Chad. Where the fuck have you been?”

Chad tilts his head away, every muscle in his face tensing as his eyes close. He yanks Jensen into a one armed hug and Jensen just stands there for second, body tense and vibrating. 

“When you’re upset…” Chad whispers into his ear, “I don’t worry. Cause you’re the shit, Jen. But when Justin freaks… I never know what’s gonna happen.”

Jensen feels his anger drain from him, warmth of Chad’s body pressed close. They’re both sweating bullets, sticking to each other, hearts still thundering from playing. 

Jensen lets his cheek fall against Chad’s shoulder, and sighs, fingers closing over the back of Chad’s head and holding. “Yeah. I know.”

*

Chad proceeds to get Jensen high and drunk as all hell after the show, and Jensen’s so stoned he falls asleep right on Chad’s shoulder.

When he wakes, he’s on the tour bus in his bunk, blinking and confused by the daylight. Justin’s there, hand on Jensen’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Justin says, low and deep, words resonating with a desperation that makes Jensen close his eyes, try to breathe steady.

“Thank you… for coming to save me.” Justin rubs a thumb against Jensen’s shoulder. 

Jensen doesn’t open his eyes, turns fully onto his side and lets his arm fall open against the mattress in invitation.

Justin hesitates a second, and then he rolls into the bunk, weight pressing against Jensen’s arm, resting flush against his body. Justin pulls out of his shirt and tugs the blankets up, hips backing into Jensen’s.

It feels… normal. Familiar. Right and completely wrong. Like hugging a fire when you’re freezing cold.

Jensen rests his chin in the groove of Justin’s shoulder, and falls gratefully back into sleep.

*

Jensen’s more than halfway to ass-drunk when they go onstage for the next show.

They play Portland in a smaller venue, club show, fans pressed right up against the stage, security lurking at the edges of the stage, keeping a wary eye on the crowd. Jensen loves playing smaller places like this. Well, he loves playing pretty much anywhere, but there’s something about the fans being so close, being able to look right down into their eyes, see their smiles.

It reminds him of the days when he could still hang out at the club and actually _talk_ to the fans about music instead of posing with them for pictures and answering a quick question. They’re too big now for the fans to be anything but crazy.

Jensen guesses he gets that. He’s got a few rock star crushes, himself. If Eric Clapton decided to hang out with them, Jensen probably wouldn’t even be able to speak. And if he could, he’d make such an idiot out of himself that he might have to commit suicide afterwards. Of course, he’s no Eric Clapton, but sometimes, the fans treat him like he is.

Which makes absolutely _no fucking sense_ to Jensen, but hey, everybody’s got their opinion.

When they wind down the show, Jensen’s still riding high on the fans, takes his time bowing and lifting his guitar to them. He finally exits the stage in a flare of lights, fans still cheering, and he hands his guitar off to Stan the Security Guard Man when he crosses the doorway to backstage.

He’s not the slightest bit interested in the party in their room, and Mike’ll probably have his ass for it, but fuck it. He’s feeling a little grassroots tonight, and heads for the club bar instead.

Two guards pull off from the team and follow him, talking on their radios, and Jensen cheerfully ignores them.

The club is closing and most of the people are being pushed out the door as Jensen settles onto a barstool, ordering a shot of whiskey. He sees five or so people notice him, crying out to their friends, and then there’s a group of twenty five or so people gathered around him.

It’s not a big crowd, nothing he can’t handle, and he’s got nothing but time. He takes their questions gracefully, answers them as thoroughly as he can. He wishes the stars in their eyes weren’t quite so bright, but he loves that he’s making them so happy. He signs flyer after flyer, accepting every single hug, whether by request or not. Jensen has three shots while he talks, and his buzz kicks right back in. Towards the end of the crowd, one particularly overzealous girl kisses him full on the mouth and he shrugs, goes with it and grabs her in his arms, dips her towards the floor.

Why not? She’s gonna remember this moment for the rest of her life. Yeah, he’s sure it’ll be plastered all over the internet via cellphone shots tomorrow, but fuck it. Let her have it. He’s having fun.

Security shoos off the last of the fans and he throws back another shot, smiling and happy.

When the last of the crowd is gone, he rises from the barstool and heads for the downstairs. Security follows him down the stairs, takes a look around and fades into the woodwork.

It’s quiet down here, empty except for a few roadies and a few hangers on who got permission.

Jared’s at the bar, one massive shoulder leaning into some pretty boy with wide blue eyes and dusky blond hair. Jared laughs at something the guy is saying, tossing his head back, hair falling back from his face, and the pretty boy leans in, whispers something into Jared’s ear.

They’re totally flirting, probably about to head for a bathroom together. Jensen should really leave them alone.

But he really doesn’t want to. And hell. Why should he? He’s already fucked rules and protocol once tonight.

Fuck it.

“Hey,” Jensen grins as he walks up, shouldering between pretty boy and Jared, face turned towards Jared.

“Holy shit! You’re Jensen Ackles, aren’t you?” The pretty boy sounds like a dying fish, the way he’s gasping for breath.

“I am,” Jensen says, turning towards the pretty boy with a killer smile. “And you’re _really_ cute. But me and Jared here need a moment alone.” Jensen tilts his head to the side, fingers playing at the edge of pretty boy’s jacket sleeve. Flicks his eyes up and smiles in just the right way. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Pretty boy looks at him with a dazed smile, head nodding, heavy and stupid. “Sure,” he breathes, with the scent of rum. “But… dude, can I, uh.”

Jensen smiles. “Got a pen?”

The pretty boy produces one and Jensen grabs one of their flyers on the bar, scribbles his name across it and hands it off.

“Thanks, man. You’re fucking awesome.”

“Thanks,” Jensen nods, shooting pretty boy a last smile. He disappears from the bar, and now it’s just the two of them sitting there. There’s still a couple of people sitting at tables, but most of them are crew. 

“Smooth,” Jared notes, staring down at his glass. 

“What?” Jensen asks with a grin, shouldering into Jared’s space, glass clinking against Jared’s. “I saved you from groupie octopus hands.”

Jared chuckles, takes a drink. “I know you’ve got all the options, being a rock star and all… but groupie octopus hands are the best I can hope for.” Jared drains his glass, sets it down on the bar.

Jensen does his shot, considers that through the pleasant haze of his brain. His fingers trace the rim of the glass as he sets it down, then rise, tips dragging down Jared’s jaw, turning him closer.

“That’s not the best you can hope for,” Jensen assures, mouth so close to Jared’s.

“Then what is?” Jared whispers, body trembling under Jensen’s touch.

“Maybe this.” Jensen tilts his face, angles his jaw, kissing Jared, warm, soft, tongue slipping between his lips.

God, the way Jared’s mouth opens, eager and hungry, tasting, testing, unsure. Their tongues circling, fighting it out, finding out who’s who. Sleek, slick glide, Jensen’s hands rising to grab the back of Jared’s head, tugging him in.

“Want you,” Jensen whispers into Jared’s mouth, sucking on the end of his tongue

“Fuck,” Jared breathes, hands grabbing Jensen’s shoulders, mouth greedy and desperate.

Desperate and perfect, _fuck_.

They _have_ to get out of here.

Jensen stands up, grabs Jared’s hand as he looks him in the eye, and tugs him towards the door. “You in?”

“You kidding?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever been as serious in my life,” Jensen confides, grinning over his shoulder at Jared as he leads them out of the room, down the hallway. Jared looks away when he says that, and yeah, okay. Maybe that’s a little overkill. But it’s how Jensen feels right now.

Jensen uses his key card, opens the door to an office, desk backlit by ceiling lights.

“Whose room is this?” Jared asks.

Jensen grabs him by the hair, shoves him against the wall. “Who fucking knows?” He kisses Jared’s mouth, sucking at the swell of Jared’s lower lip. “You care?”

“Fuck no,” Jared gasps.

Justin’s two inches taller than Jensen, but Jared… practically towers over him. Yeah, maybe he’s always had a thing for tall guys. He could care less as he pushes his hands against Jared’s shoulders. He feels like he’s been waiting forever to do this, and Jared feels so good, rubbing against him.

“On the couch,” Jared begs as Jensen bites his throat.

“Whatever you want,” Jensen whispers, mouth closing around Jared’s ear as he spins them into the room.

He shoves Jared down against the couch, looks down at him with a grin as he strips his t-shirt over his head.

“God. Jensen. So fucking hot,” Jared sighs, body rising against the air, eyes watching him.

Jensen falls on top of him, mouth kissing hard and desperate, and stops for a second to yank Jared’s shirt over his head. Bare chests pressed together, heartbeat to heartbeat, rising out of control. God, Jared’s fucking cut and beautiful; sweat shining on the hard outline of his muscles. Slick, hot skin under Jensen’s hands, and he’s _really_ looking forward to this.

Jared gasps, moans as Jensen sucks and licks his way down Jared’s throat to his chest, sucking on his nipples, teasing them to hard, pointed peaks. He turns his head, breathes across one of Jared’s nipples, closes his teeth around it and drags away, tugging hard before he lets go, rising to claim Jared’s mouth with a smirk.

“You’re amazing,” Jared breathes, arching underneath him, arms twining around Jensen’s body, holding him close. “You really are. I’m not just some fucking groupie saying that, either…” 

Jensen doesn’t want to think about that. He’s about to fuck a roadie, someone on his payroll, and he’s never done that, not once. Always groupies or people in the towns they visit. No one permanent.

Jensen doesn’t care. He’s made worse mistakes.

_Fuck it_.

He gets Jared out of his pants, just takes a second to look at the long length of that huge body spread out under him, wanting Jensen. He closes his lips around the head of Jared’s cock and sucks, Jared shoving into the laves of his tongue, the slow suction. He’s got an incredible cock, long and thick.

“Jesus fuck, Jensen,” Jared moans, eyes rolling back in his head, hands grasping at Jensen’s shoulders, hips twisting underneath him, short pants and moans as Jensen slides up and down the long, long length of him. 

Jensen shoves Jared’s legs up, moves down, tongues at Jared’s pink, inviting rim. God, he’s so hot, the way he twists and writhes under Jensen’s touch. Jensen thrusts his tongue deep inside and lets it curl, Jared moaning, shoving into him, fingers grabbing desperately at the short strands of Jensen’s hair.

Jensen fucks him with short, hard thrusts of his tongue until Jared relaxes, opens for him completely, legs laid wide on either side of Jensen, rocking into the rhythm, begging for more.

Jensen’s got a packet of lube and a condom stuffed in the pocket of his jeans—of course he does. He was never a boy scout, but he _is_ a rock star and he can more than appreciate the motto of “always be prepared”.

He sits up, lubes his fingers and fucks Jared with two of them, nice and slow, just to see what Jared does. 

Jared takes it like it’s heaven, hips shoving, grinding down into Jensen, his fingers locked on Jensen’s shoulders.

Jensen pulls out, takes a second to shove his pants down, and Jared watches him, looking him up and down, completely unabashed. Jensen rolls on the condom, slides his hand up and down his cock, slicking it with more lube, staring down at Jared, his lower lip caught between his teeth.

“God,” Jared groans out more syllables in the word than Jensen ever thought was possible. “Jensen. Fuck me.”

Jensen lines up, leans in and grabs Jared by the shoulders, yanking him down on Jensen’s dick as he thrusts. Jared’s eyes close, whole body shuddering, and he wraps his arms around Jensen’s body, heels pushing, teasing at the base of Jensen’s spine.

Jared’s tight, wet, and hot, sealed around Jensen’s cock, wrapped around Jensen’s back, mouth open and begging for Jensen to _move_.

God. He’s beautiful. No. Not thinking those thoughts right now.

Jensen rocks out, then back in with a teasing thrust of his hips, and Jared gasps, clenches at him.

Jensen’s had enough to drink that he can go as long as he wants; fucks Jared hard and fast, until Jared’s gasping, begging for Jensen to touch his cock. Jensen smiles, pulling back as he kisses Jared’s open, wanting mouth. 

“Been thinking about doing this too long. Not gonna rush it,” Jensen promises, shoving in deep and slow, and Jared closes his legs tight around Jensen. 

“You… thought about this? Before?” Jared really is beautiful. His face flushed, moving counterpoint, tight fucking body rocking against Jensen. 

“Like you didn’t?” Jensen asks, gasping as his cock drags out.

“Like anyone _hasn’t_ ,” Jared hisses, then moans with pleasure.

“Is it like you thought?” Jensen breathes back, sliding deep. 

“No,” Jared shakes his head, body moving underneath Jensen, eyes glazed with heat, clear, deep hazel-blue. “You're the real thing,” Jared whispers. 

Jensen doesn't even know what that _means_ , except for the way it hits his heart, makes it go sideways and thump even harder inside his chest.

“I knew you’d be amazing,” Jensen gasps. Jensen rolls his body, curling his hips, hitting that sweet spot inside Jared, and Jared twists underneath him. Chests and stomach sliding, rubbing, bellies scraping, rocking and rolling together, hands fused to each other’s bodies, and it’s glorious.

“You’re so hot, Jared,” Jensen whispers, shivering as he bites down against Jared’s lower lip. “God… your body,” Jensen gasps, hands running all over Jared. Squeezing his pecs, trailing down to his stomach muscles, tracing the lines there, out to the groove of his hipbones, sliding underneath his ass, and Jared’s just as hard, smoothly muscled there as he is everywhere else. Jensen gathers him in the palms of his hands, squeezes, and fucks into Jared _hard_.

Jared’s eyes practically roll back in his head. He clenches his arms around Jensen, lifts his hips and meets Jensen, stroke for stroke. “Please. Jensen. God, please.”

Jensen wraps his hand around Jared’s aching hard cock, thumbs the wet, leaking slit. Christ, he’s so hard and ready. Jensen could probably _tell_ him to come and he would.

Jensen closes his fingers into a fist around Jared’s cock, thumbs under the head as he shoves deep with his hips. “Come on, come for me. Know you wanna,” Jensen breathes.

Jared moans, arches into the grip of Jensen’s hand. “Fuck,” Jared gasps. 

So hot, hard against Jensen’s hand, that body arching, thrusting into Jensen’s grip. “Yeah. Come on. Wanna see it.”

Jared yanks his head to the side, eyes closing, and Jensen grabs him by the chin, turns him back to look.

“Let me _see_ ,” Jensen whispers, shoving hard with his hips, staring into Jared’s eyes.

Jared stares back, teeth seizing around his lower lip, eyes squeezing halfway shut, lashes fluttering as he moans, head falling against the couch. His cock jerks in Jensen’s hand, spurts thick white spatters onto Jared’s gorgeous stomach, whole body seizing around Jensen, spine stiff and arched as he cries out. Jared’s hands come up, grab Jensen’s ass, muscles rippling under Jared’s skin as he shoves upward with his whole body, still coming with Jensen buried deep inside him, hips thrusting frantically.

Fucking _Christ_.

Jensen comes like a rocket, whole body shuddering, Jared clamped around his cock, inner muscles fluttering. Grabs Jared by one shoulder and strokes Jared’s cock with the other as he buries himself inside Jared again and again, pulsing with white-hot flashes of pleasure. He sinks his teeth into the thin skin of Jared’s neck, catches it hard and twists, shoving so hard that Jared’s body jolts underneath him, Jared crying out, cock twitching out a last burst.

Jensen heaves one last time, burying himself deep, hisses out a breath against Jared’s skin, cock over-sensitized, nerve endings dancing on end as he pulses one more time. He holds there, slides his wet hand through the mess of Jared’s belly, up his chest, grabs his other shoulder, fingers gripping tight, and Jared’s head lolls towards his, jaw catching against Jensen’s cheek. Jensen lifts his head, mouth hitting Jared’s with a rough clash of teeth, tongue pushing inside to taste him again. Jared moans, twists his head, angles his jaw, kisses Jensen back even harder, pushing up from the couch as their tongues swirl together, Jensen leaving the tangle as he licks the roof of Jared’s mouth, tasting every ridge and curve, Jared’s tongue curling underneath his, tracing a line up the center.

Fuck. Jensen hasn’t been kissed like this in a really long time. Jared’s hands around Jensen’s jaw, sliding up over Jensen’s cheekbones, into his hair, Jared rocking against him lazily, making slow, hungry sounds. Jensen’s starting to think he might just be able to go another round. 

Jared shudders against him. “You’re…” He hesitates, hitching in a breath. His voice is deep, meaning even deeper as he says, "I want you to know, I…"

And then the fucking door opens. Jensen sighs, looks up as Jared cranes his head back, trying to see, and then Jared is scrambling out from under Jensen, hands grabbing for his clothes.

Justin’s standing in the doorway.

Well, shit. That’s just fucking _awesome_.

It’s not like it’s never happened before in their nine years of being together—but still; awkward. Especially for Jared.

The look on Jared’s face couldn’t be more guilty. He stands up, yanking his pants on, face flushing furiously. Justin’s just standing there, looking Jared up and down while he pulls on his shirt.

“Hot,” Justin comments, looking at Jensen.

“I was just leaving,” Jared mumbles, running a quick hand through his hair. 

“What a shame,” Justin purrs.

There’s this moment where Jared suddenly _gets it_ \--Jensen can see the surprise and realization hit him like a hammer blow, hazel eyes flashing in Justin’s direction. 

Justin can be smooth and charming as fuck when he plays it up, and then sometimes, like now, he’s about as subtle as a brick to the head.

“Justin,” Jensen says his name like a tired warning. Jared probably has no clue if Justin’s being sarcastic or actually propositioning him. Jensen knows for a fact that it’s both.

“I really need to… go…” Jared says, ducking towards the door.

“Roadie work to get back to,” Justin nods, not moving out of the way. “I’ve noticed you around. Hard not to, with a body like that. Never fucked a roadie before,” Justin says, eyeing Jared up and down again. “Thought they were off-limits.” Jared’s practically writhing with discomfort, and Jensen takes a deep breath.

“Let him go, Justin.”

Justin shrugs easily enough, steps further inside, shouldering the door open wider and making enough space for Jared to squeeze through. Jared does, head low against his chest, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Jensen rolls his eyes, words laced so thick with sarcasm they practically drip from his mouth. “Thanks, dude.”

“Fucking the hired help?” Justin arches a brow at Jensen.

“Don’t forget to fuck a few fanboys while you’re up on that high-horse,” Jensen says, rising to his feet. “Or girls,” he adds, pulling his pants to his waist and yanking up the zipper.

“Fanboys and fangirls come and go, Jen. Hired help sticks around.”

“I’m a big boy, Justin. So is Jared.”

“Jared,” Justin looks thoughtful as he turns over the name. “You always know their names.”

“Figure I oughta at least know that before I fuck them.” Jensen yanks his shirt on.

Justin’s silent for a long moment, and Jensen can see him shrug from the corner of his eye.

“Well, if he gets to be a problem, we can always fire him.”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Jensen. He clenches his jaw tight and nods. “Right.”

Dammit. He’s going to have to find Jared tomorrow and fix this.

  
  


  
  



	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Jensen is nursing coffee and a hangover as he climbs on the bus, considering mimosas for breakfast. Mike’s already there on the bench seat with his laptop. He glances up and gives Jensen a look like Jensen ran over his dog or something and Jensen stops, Sandy and Justin right behind him.

“What?”

Mike turns the laptop around wordlessly.

“Jensen,” Sandy’s grinning at him with that dazzling smile. “That’s _sweet_.”

“Jensen,” Mike sighs, hands rubbing at his bald head.

“What?” Sandy asks. “It’s _cute_ , Mike. If anything, it’ll make the girls like him even more.”

The end of the YouTube video is frozen on an image of Jensen. He’s got an arm around a girl’s neck, holding and dipping her from his seat on the barstool, her blonde hair pooling against the floor, his eyes closed, mouth locked against hers.

“I thought playing for both teams was _my_ job,” Justin smirks.

“Full time,” Jensen comments, archly.

“Hey,” Justin shrugs, grinning. “I love my work.”

Mike grips his head in his hands, fingers denting the smooth skin. “Do you… do you understand… what a careful balance I have to build here? It’s so delicate, between the people who want to believe you’re with Justin and the people who want to believe you’re completely hetero?” Mike trails off, shaking his head.

“Look,” Sandy pipes up, putting a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “The people who think Justin and Jensen are together aren’t going to change their minds because of one video.”

Chad pushes to the front of the group and eyes the screen. “Shit. That all? I figured he musta been snorting lines off her naked ass the way you all are going on.” He looks disappointed as he falls back on the bench seat across from Mike.

Jensen arches a brow at Mike, bemused. “See? Could’ve been a whole lot worse.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. Fine. Can we make sure this is a one-time thing, Jen?”

“I don’t know…” Jensen pretends to consider, looking up. “I was thinking about making it my new thing, you know?”

“Jensen.” Mike sounds like he wants to strangle him.

“Okay, how about once every six months?” Jensen offers. “Can we work that out?”

Mike shakes his head and closes the laptop, gets up and walks towards the front of the bus.

“Once a year?” Jensen calls after him.

Sandy laughs, surprised as she cuts him a sideways look. “You’re in a mood.”

Yeah, maybe he is, a little. Sarcastic and belligerent isn’t usually his style. Jensen shrugs. “He knows I’m just fucking with him.”

“What got into you last night, anyway?”

“I was just… It was a good night.”

“Apparently,” Justin says, not all together kindly.

“Don’t worry, it’s got nothing on your Hank and Lou experience,” Jensen returns, voice dry.

Justin’s face darkens, mouth tightening, eyes going stormy, and then closing down. He turns and heads off through the kitchen to the bunks.

Dammit. Jensen sighs and falls onto the seat. Yeah, he _is_ in a mood. He’s hung over and annoyed about his good night getting ruined and cross-examined.

Sandy shoots him a sympathetic look. “Guess I’d better get some sleep, too,” she says, following after Justin. That leaves just him and Chad in the sitting area. Chad’s smoking, a cigarette jutting out from between his pursed lips as he turns the pages of a magazine on his lap. 

“Way I heard it,” Chad says squinting around the filter. “You had one hell of an interesting night.”

“Didn’t _everyone_ hear?” Jensen motions in the direction Mike walked off in.

Chad blows smoke and smirks at Jensen until it clicks.

Oh. _That_.

“Does everybody know?” Jensen asks quietly, staring at his hands, thumb rubbing against the palm. 

“Nah, dude.” The pages of the magazine rustle as Chad speaks. “Jared’s totally discreet. But he _is_ my friend. He was kinda worried, after what happened. He came to me looking for advice, is all.”

Jensen twists his fingers together, nodding. “He okay?”

“He’s fine. Little freaked about Justin walking in, worried about his job.”

“He’s not getting fired.” Jensen looks up at Chad as he speaks, fingers stilling their dance.

Chad folds the magazine shut, sets it aside and scoots to lean forward on the seat. “I figured you’d say that,” Chad nods. “But dude, if Mike finds out—“

“Yeah, he’ll bitch and moan and hold his head in his hands a lot. And then go drink a fifth.”

Chad’s brows rise in surprise, and yeah, maybe that was a little cynical. “He could fire Jared.”

“He could _try_ ,” Jensen corrects with a meaningful look at Chad. No way in hell Jensen’s gonna let that happen. “Jared’s not gonna make any trouble for us.”

Chad laughs, bitterness tingeing the sound as it echoes off the walls of the bus. “You know how it is, Jen, come on. Mike could fire him just for fucking you. Not like roadies get a lot of consideration.”

“Then he’d have to fire me for doing it, too,” Jensen shrugs, resolved.

“Right.” Chad just looks at Jensen for a second, exhaling smoke as he stubs out his cigarette. His blue eyes glitter in the sunlight with a look that Jensen can’t quite figure out.

“What?” Jensen asks, edgy.

“Nothing, man,” Chad shakes his head, looking away and sliding on his sunglasses. “Nothing at all,” he says, laying back against the seat and folding his hands behind his head.

*

About mid-morning, Jensen slides into the bunk behind Justin, mouth brushing Justin’s ear. Justin turns his face into the touch, and Jensen feels something inside his chest clench. The morning sun is bright through the window, and Justin’s skin glows golden at the edges. So beautiful and familiar, the way he moves, the way he smells. 

“Sorry for being such a prick,” Jensen breathes, wrapping his arms around Justin. 

He can feel Justin shrug against him. “Guess I was kind of a prick, myself, last night.” 

Jensen considers for a second. “I’ve seen worse. That was actually pretty well-mannered for you.”

Justin hesitates, nestles against Jensen and takes a breath. “I mean, with a _roadie?_ ”

Jensen goes very still. “You. _You’re_ … going to judge _me_ for _my_ choices?” he asks, implication clear.

“I’m not _judging you_ ,” Justin sighs. “It’s just not like you.”

Jensen’s bone tired and sick to death of arguing. “It was just one of those nights. You know what I mean.” Jensen tilts his head to the side, chin rolling against the curve of Justin’s shoulder.

Justin’s silent for a long moment. “Yeah. Sure.” Justin doesn’t sound sure at all, and Jensen closes his eyes, breathes out slow.

Justin slides his fingers through Jensen’s and holds tight.

*

The Seattle show is pretty much business as usual, a level moment between Jensen and Justin. Jensen walks offstage sweating and satisfied, pauses by the speaker stack and steps behind it, looking for Jared. There’s a bunch of roadies and some other crew behind the set about to go to work breaking everything down, but Jensen spots Jared easily, he’s so fucking tall.

“Hey,” Jensen says, walking up.

“Hey,” Jared turns, not quite smiling.

No other way to do this than just do it. “I’m sorry about the other night.”

Jared shrugs, rubs his hands together. He’s wearing work gloves with his tank top and he looks way fucking hotter than he’s got any right to be. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’s…” Jensen hesitates, trying to figure out how to explain. “Justin wasn’t mad. He was just messing with you.” Jensen pauses. “And coming on to you. That’s just Justin.”

Jared nods, glancing away. “Long as nobody’s pissed it’s all good.”

“ _You_ okay?”

“Yeah. I just… kinda freaked. I…” Jared swallows. “I work for you, Jensen. And for Justin. I felt a like a student getting caught with the teacher by the principal. But I’m not gonna cause any problems, there’s no bullshit here.”

Jensen can’t look at him anymore when he says that, hazel eyes flashing to meet Jensen’s with such sincerity.

“I know. It’s not going to hurt your job,” Jensen says, fingers curling around the neck of his guitar. He clears his throat. “There’s no bullshit there, either.”

“I probably shouldn’t have…”

“Lead guitarist with the lack of judgment, here,” Jensen raises a hand. “I did make the first move. Can’t exactly say I’m sorry about it, either.”

Jared nods and tucks his hair behind his ear, and God, how is he so _hot?_

“So… it’s not a problem?” Jared asks. “Because I really do like this gig.” 

“So not a problem,” Jensen says, smile finding a way to his lips.

“Good.” Jared says, smiling back. 

“Yeah. So. I should let you… work,” Jensen finishes, nodding. Jensen should really have more to say, some parting line of wittiness. But he doesn’t. 

He walks backstage, guiding the neck of his guitar through the doorway until security takes it for him.

*

The party in the VIP room is crazy, and Jensen’s drunk as hell by the time he stumbles into the hotel room, him and Mike clinging to each other like lifelines, barely staying on their feet.

Sandy took off with the bassist from the other band, but Chad’s asleep on the couch, and Justin’s sitting on the bed shirtless, arms folded across his chest. He looks as drunk as Jensen feels. He also looks _pissed_.

“What the fuck, Jen?” he demands, getting to his feet. He sways a little, but he doesn’t fall. He’s got Jensen’s notebook clasped in one hand, holding it up.

“What?” Jensen demands, already feeling the first sparks of anger start to rise.

“Your new fucking _lyrics_. Do you ever get tired of bitching about everything? Jesus _Christ_ ,” Justin fairly yells. “Shit’s fucking getting _old_.”

Jensen pushes away from Mike, fury sweeping through him. It hits him quicker than it should, partly because he’s wasted, but mostly because this argument is one they’ve had a lot over the years. “Let me tell you what’s getting fucking _old_ Justin--YOU. You and me, this whole fucking _thing_.”

“Hey, guys,” Mike tries to say, moving like he’s going to intervene. Justin and Jensen spin on him as one, yelling “Get out.”

Jensen isn’t sure where Mike goes—doesn’t really care. They scream and yell back and forth for a good ten minutes before Justin finally starts throwing shit around the room. Mike reappears like magic, then, grabbing Justin’s hands. Justin yanks away from Mike and tells him to fuck off, and Jensen’s about ready to tackle Justin to the floor and hold him down when the door opens.

“Hey—What the _fuck_ is going on in here?” Jeff roars, louder than any of them.

 _That_ gets Justin’s attention. Everyone in the room stops and turns to look at Jeff.

“You guys _want_ security up here, or what?” Jeff demands. “Wanna go a round with me? They’ll be up here for sure, then.” He’s not kidding either, he looks furious, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Well?” he snaps, looking at Justin, then Jensen.

Jensen shakes his head. “Pass.” He’s drunk; not stupid.

“No,” Justin mutters, wind going out of his sails.

“I could hear you right through the fucking walls, clear as day. You wanna fight, do it on your own time. Some of us _have_ to sleep around here.” Jeff turns around and stomps out, slamming the door behind him.

“Good thing we keep _him_ around,” Mike breathes, rubbing at his head.

Jensen snatches a blanket from the bed and curls up on the floor.

Chad continues to sleep through it all.

*

The morning sun is beautiful as it rises on their way to Salt Lake City.

Jensen sits on the bench seat staring out the window as the scenery flies by, running his fingers over the tiny ridges in the weave of his jeans.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Sandy says, falling into the seat beside him.

Jensen smiles ruefully as he leans his head against hers.

“More than I got for them.”

Sandy curls her feet up under her and leans her weight against Jensen. She nods at the notebook spread open in his lap. “What are you working on?” 

“Whole lot a nothing.” Jensen chuckles dryly. He moves his shoulder a little so she can see.

Sandy cranes her neck, leaning over to read. 

_Forever earthbound - found in illusion  
Spinning in circles deep, in my confusion  
Memories fading - slip into fantasy  
I may be leaving - then stay  
Following endlessly_

_Tangled in silence (Tangled in silence)  
Echoes I'm chasing (Echoes I'm chasing)  
Falling in out of time, I see I'm wasting  
Drifting and helpless, hold on to emptiness  
We may be losing and lost  
And see nothing more_

“That’s so sad.”

“Yeah.” He stares at the words on the page, thinking. “You remember the last time I wrote anything that wasn’t?”

Sandy reaches out, wraps her fingers around his hand, squeezing lightly.

“You should get some sleep, Jen. You’re tired.”

“Yeah,” he says, laughing without humor. “I’m tired of writing sad songs.” 

He sets the notebook aside and curls up next to Sandy, falling asleep on her shoulder.

*

The Salt Lake City show sucks beyond the telling of it.

*

Vegas is dark when they roll in, city lights and neon names streaking the sky in a rainbow of colors.

They’re playing the Venetian tonight, and if that’s not enough, Mike’s grinning like the cat that ate all the canaries.

“I know you guys have been having a rough time lately. But trust me,” Mike grins, lit from behind by the hotel lights. “I’ve got a surprise lined up tonight that you’re never gonna believe. You’re gonna be on top of the world.”

The stage set is _huge_ on the scale of epic, and there’s so much energy in the air that Jensen can’t help feeling better than he has in days.

The showgirls warm up to _I Want You_ , kicking their legs and spinning in a shower of glittering gold and white feathers. The band is getting made-up in one of the skylight rooms directly over the stages, watching as Nickelback goes onstage, opening with _How You Remind Me_ , and the crowd roars. They’re ready long before Nickelback’s done, catch most of the show while they kick back in their armchairs, sipping beer while Nancy fusses over them ruining their perfect lip lines.

“Great fucking job,” Justin yells as Nickelback passes them in the hallway, high fiving and hamming with the lead singer.

The crowd is still incredibly riled up when they get downstairs, standing offstage and waiting for the guys doing sound check to let them know everything is ready.

Someone walks out on the stage from the other side, in front of the red curtain.

“Holy fucking _shit_.” Chad’s got a hand pressed over his mouth. “Is that…?”

“That’s Eddie fucking Van Halen,” Jensen agrees, wide-eyed.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Are you having a good time?”

The crowd whistles and goes wild, and Eddie cups a hand to his ear, leans forward. “What’s that? I don’t think I can hear you?”

Jensen can barely hear _him_ over the noise the crowd is making, but somehow they get even louder.

“How the _fuck_ did Mike get _him_?” Justin whispers in awe.

“I can’t believe he’s here,” Jensen agrees, nodding.

“I can’t believe he’s here _and_ he’s coherent,” Sandy adds, just as stunned as the rest of them.

“ _And_ he doesn’t look like he’s three hundred years old,” Chad finishes, and they nod as one.

“Some of you might know me,” Eddie begins, stopping to grin and hold up a hand when the crowd explodes. “Some of you might know me,” he goes on, when the crowd finally quiets a little, “from a little band called Van Halen.”

The crowd screams so loud that Jensen winces.

“And if you know me, then you know I’ve spent a lot of years, playing rock n’ roll.” More insane cheering from the crowd.

“Rock n’ roll’s changed with the times over the years. It’s not like it was back when we were playing in the eighties. It’s nothing like it was when Jerry Lee Lewis, or Little Richard, or even the Beatles shaped it. But there’s a commonality that binds us together,” Eddie says, drawing a hand through the air. “A certain spirit,” he says, closing his hand into a fist, “that’s never been lost in the hearts of Americans.” 

“And that spirit is in full effect here, tonight.” Eddie closes his eyes, nods while the crowd claps and cheers.

“I’ve spent a lot of years, listening to, and playing rock n’roll, and believe me when I tell you… this next band, embodies that spirit. They’re one of the reasons that rock n’ roll is still alive.” The crowd screams, and Eddie yells, “It’s my absolute _pleasure_ to introduce our next artists—one of the few bands who still understands what rock n’ roll is all about—T Minus Zero!” Eddie throws out his arm in the direction of their side of the stage.

The lights go up and the curtain rolls into the ceiling, and Jensen closes his jaw, runs out onstage as the band takes their places.

Eddie takes his time and shakes hands with Justin as the crowd whoops and cheers, and when he gets to Jensen, he closes his hand around Jensen’s in a fist, pulls him into a one armed hug. “Kick their asses, kid,” he whispers. “You rock,” Eddie says, pulling away.

He shakes Sandy and Chad’s hand in turn, hugging each of them, and Jensen just watches, too stunned to have another thought.

Eddie fucking Van Halen just told him that he _rocks_.

They play one of the best shows of their lives, Jensen wailing on the guitar, falling onto the floor head to head with Justin as he plays out the solo, both of them singing into the mic on the crescendo of _Your Axis on a Tilt_ \--

_I've never been so alone, and I've never been so alive_

The applause is so deafening Jensen thinks he’s going to be hearing impaired for days. They do two encores, one with songs from _Essence of Arrival_ , and finally end with two songs from _Sonic Rebel Invasion_.

The blast of sound when they finish is magnificent, glorious, people throwing their hands in the air, screaming their hearts out, and Jensen just… takes a moment.

Justin grabs him, drags him into the spotlight, lifts Jensen’s strumming hand into the air, fingers entwined as they yell back at the crowd, grinning to beat the devil.

*

Jensen gets high as fuck after the show, drinking beer with Nickelback’s drummer and some male intern or another—Jamie? Jimmy? Who the fuck knows? Interns have a tendency to come and go like buses, and this is a fucking monumental night. Finally he takes a break, heads for the bathroom, empty beer bottle left on the counter when he’s finished. The trashcan is overflowing and bathroom counter is already building a nice collection of dead soldiers, and it’s still early. He needs to have one of the interns take care of that.

He opens the door, practically runs right into Jared.

“Hey,” Jared says, face lighting up. He looks great, dark hair curling against his cheeks, light gray tank top that shows off his arms—his _arms_ , fucking Christ. He’s _huge_. Jensen gives Jared’s chest and stomach a quick once-over, can see the outline of his pecs, his abs, perfect under the material. 

“Hey,” Jensen says, grinning back.

“Dude,” Jared says, lifting a hand. “I know it’s gonna sound trite, but that was the _best_ fucking show you guys have _ever done_. And that’s saying a lot.”

Jensen shrugs, feeling like there’s a permanent grin on his face. “It was… definitely one my favorites.”

“Congratulations,” Jared says, grabs his hand in a firm shake, body shifting into the crowd like he’s ready to move along. God, he looks so _good_ , natural, _real_.

Jensen grabs his hand, fingers lacing through Jared’s. 

“You should come, hang out.”

Jared looks uncertain, so Jensen just starts walking, pulls Jared along behind him, hand in hand.

“You should know,” Jensen tosses over his shoulder as they weave through the crowd. “I’m not in the mood to take no for an answer.”

“So I see,” Jared laughs.

Jensen grabs them both a beer on the way, pops the lids and hands one to Jared. He finally finds a space for them to sit, near the corner of the room, yanking Jared down beside him as he sits Indian style.

“You are _sooooo_ high,” Jared accuses, no heat to the words.

“Fuck yes I am,” Jensen agrees, clanking his beer bottle against Jared’s. “And you’re not? ‘Cause if not, we gotta fix that shit right now,” he adds before he tilts his bottle up.

“I’m plenty high,” Jared assures, taking a drink from his own bottle.

The music is loud, even with all the voices around them, and it feels good, rhythm sinking into Jensen’s bones.

“So what's your favorite song?" Jared grins.

"Got a lot of them," Jensen laughs.

"Okay," Jared says, spreading his arms in a slow gesture. "If you had to pick one moment of musical perfection out of all time… what would it be?"

Jared's smile is inviting, wide open, and for a split second, Jensen actually thinks about telling the truth.

"Like I could pick just one." Jensen lifts his beer bottle to his lips, takes a long drink.

"I hear you," Jared nods. "I don't think I could pick, either."

Jensen thumbs at the label on his beer bottle, digs a fingernail into the wet paper.

The chorus of Revolution Earth by the B-52's has _always_ given Jensen chills. It's… like listening to perfection made sound when the girls' voices rise together. One time, when he was really stoned with Justin, he'd told him so, played the song and made him listen, and Justin had laughed and laughed and laughed. Jensen had tackled him to the floor, held him down and kissed him, called him the worst music critic ever. Justin had gone on giggling until Jensen fucked every last laugh out of him, until all he could do was gasp and moan.

"B-52's. Revolution Earth. When they hit the beginning of the chorus together." Jensen digs his thumbnail hard into the gooey mess of his label, doesn't look up.

"Seriously?" Jared asks, surprised.

Jensen nods, peels back the corner slowly.

"Can we listen to that right the fuck now?"

Jensen flicks his eyes up, fingers pausing in their work. "You've never heard it?"

"Maybe. But not since it was named perfection by Jensen Ackles," Jared grins.

"Okay, fine," Jensen says, nodding as he finishes his beer. He sets the bottle aside, grabs Jared by the hand and tugs him to his feet. Snatches two more bottles from the bin on his way to the door, quick stop by the closet to grab his iPod. Everyone around them is talking, laughing, high, completely unaware. They slip out the door together, Jensen using his key card to open the door to the stairs, following them up until they end at a door. Jensen swipes his card again, opens the door on a gorgeous view of the city in all its glory, asphalt roof spreading out to a brick ledge.

It's so silent here, compared to the room; only the sound of cars passing by on the streets beneath, dull background roar, stars bright and sharp in the sky. Jensen's fingers are still laced through Jared's, warm tangle flexing against Jensen's palm, and he leads them to the low wall at the edge. He lets go of Jared’s hand as he settles onto the ledge, feet dangling, city lights burning in a rainbow of color below. Jared is cut in angled shadow as he sits down beside Jensen, heels kicking against the brick side of the building.

Jensen bites his lower lip, focuses on the display, hands Jared the headphones as he cues up the song with one hand.

Jared settles the earbuds in, draws up his knees on the ledge and wraps his arms around them. Jensen pushes play, sets the iPod down on the brick next to Jared.

Jared closes his eyes as the song begins, the opening vocals pass and the beat kicks in, and Jared's shoulders rock back and forth, slowly moving into the groove of rhythm until he's rolling his head side to side. Jensen knows this song inside out, backwards and forwards, every second of timing, and he watches Jared carefully when the chorus hits, how he freezes, then tilts his head back, gives in and goes with it.

He's so pretty. Eyes closed, long lashes resting against his cheeks, full mouth curved in a smile. And that _body_. Jensen wants so badly, more than just about anything, to put his fucking hands all over Jared right now.

_And we know that we're alive  
If we weren't sure before  
I reach for you by my side  
And soar  
Revolution earth_

Jensen watches him sink into the song, knows he _gets_ it, and he has to look away, out across the cityscape, beer bottle tilting up to his lips.

When it's done, Jared hands the headphones back, sucking in a deep breath.

"That's… one of the most gorgeous songs I've ever heard."

"You don't have to suck up to me," Jensen smirks, wrapping the headphones around his iPod.

"As if. I've worked for a lot of bands. You're pretty and all, but it's not like I'm not used to that."

Jensen blinks for a second. Those aren’t words he's used to hearing. Still, fair enough. 

"So why 'Beautiful Disaster'?" Jensen asks. He's wondered since the first morning when he met Jared, singing that song.

Jared draws his knees up to his chin, rests his face against them. "I sing lots of stuff. But that song, I dig it, because it's just… that one part… during the chorus, when he says 'you're a pretty train wreck to me and I can't care. I do, I don't, whatever," Jared sings the words in that perfect voice, leaves Jensen with chills spilling down his spine. "That 'I can't care', and then the… 'I do, I don't, whatever'. I just… _get_ that. It's like when you know you're in something bad, and you've just reached that fucking point, you know? You don't care, but you do because there’s still something good and pretty there, and what the fuck ever, anyway, because it doesn't fucking matter, you're so bitter and screwed." 

Jensen needs to listen to _Beautiful Disaster_ again, several times, on repeat. 

Jared's mouth works, eyes looking down at the city as he thinks. "It's the essence of _that_. Put so fucking simplistically."

Yeah. Jensen knows that feeling. Way better than he wishes he did. 

"You actually listen to the lyrics?" 

"Doesn't everyone?" Jared grins. "I mean, you can get the feel of a song just through the music, don't get me wrong. But the lyrics, that's the meat… it's the _story_ , what every instrument in the band is supporting, building that _feel_. That's what hits home, the combination of it all. But the lyrics are what pull it together.”

“So, that song have some personal meaning for you?”

Jared shrugs. “We've all been that guy; the one chasing the drugstore cowgirl, the beautiful disaster."

Jensen thinks about that for a minute. "Sometimes… I feel like the drugstore cowgirl.”

"You're not the drugstore cowgirl, Jensen. You don't run."

Jensen snorts, looks down the line of his beer bottle, city lights reflected along its edge. "You don't know me."

"I know your lyrics. I know what you write. That comes from the heart." Jared shakes his head. "You're not a runner. You're that guy… the one that stays 'til the bitter end."

"Yeah. Trust me. Being a jaded idealist; it's great for business."

"If being a jaded idealist means loving someone beyond all reason, to the point that they're all you can think about? All you can write about? Then that's what I wanna be," Jared proclaims, and tosses back his bottle. All Jensen can do is look at him, chest tight, throat too full.

"I just mean…" Jared clears his throat, fingers playing at the beer bottle in his hand. "I wanna be that passionate about something. _Anything_." He nods, like he's nodding to himself, takes another drink.

"No," Jensen whispers, drawing his head down to his chest. "You really don't."

Jared's fingertips run warm, skimming soft under the line of Jensen's chin, tilting his face up.

"Yeah, I do."

Those hazel eyes, so wide and sincere.

"It doesn't always have to be bad," Jared says, and smiles.

"What the fuck are you on?" Jensen asks, shaking his head helplessly. Because this guy… he’s just fucking unbelievable in about every single way.

"Weed and 'E'," Jared laughs, fingertips trailing from Jensen's face. "Doesn't mean I'm wrong."

Jensen nods, grinning. "Got any more?" 

“Get your own,” Jared laughs.

“Fine.” Jensen grabs Jared around the chest and _shoves_ , Jared falling backwards onto the roof. Jensen lands awkwardly on top of him, mouth closing over Jared’s, breathing in Jared’s muffled sound of surprise when they hit.

Jared’s hands close around Jensen’s shoulders, pull him in, mouth meeting his, hungry and hot, tongue swirling inside with a shudder, moaning into Jensen’s mouth. Jensen kisses him back, hard, Jared’s body arching underneath him. “I… work… for you. We… shouldn’t… do this,” Jared gasps between tastes of Jensen’s mouth.

“Not… doing a great job… convincing me…” Jensen gasps back, biting Jared’s lower lip. “Unless you’ve got a problem with me sexually harassing you…?”

“No. I really, _really_ want you to sexually harass me.” Jared curls his fingers in the sleeves of Jensen’s shirt, yanks him down tight, hips tilting up, pushing into Jensen’s.

Jensen laughs, can’t help it, and it feels good, so normal and natural and so not like anything else he’s felt in a really long time. Jared smiles back against Jensen’s mouth, fingers sliding down Jensen’s back, tightening against Jensen’s hips.

Jensen runs a hand down Jared’s chest, finds the aching hard nub of Jared’s nipple, thumbing it through Jared’s shirt lightly. Jensen pulls his mouth from Jared’s, mouth dragging down over Jared’s jaw line, tracing Jared’s pulse with his tongue, tip curling, teeth nipping. Jared’s arcing and twisting under him like a live wire with every touch, hissing in breath. 

“God, Jensen. Feels so good.”

“Barely even touching you,” Jensen murmurs, tongue flashing out along the line of Jared’s collarbone. 

Jared jolts, shuddering against the sensation. “Roll’s starting to hit me hard,” Jared moans. 

“Mmm…” Jensen breathes, smiling slow and lazy. “Right,” slow, heavy swirl of tongue against Jared’s neck, “Then this…” licking, sucking the hollow of Jared’s throat, “should be…” biting against the bone, hips grinding, “ _really_ good.”

“Fucking Christ.” Jared shudders out the words, hands squeezing Jensen’s hips, head thrown back.

Jared’s skin is so warm, burning up with drugs and want, glimmering as he begins to sweat. Jared’s straining and gasping into Jensen’s every touch. Jensen knows what ‘E’ does to you; nerves insanely over-sensitized and _nothing_ feels as good as being touched. A light touch _anywhere_ is completely sensual; something like a back massage is an orgasmic experience. Sex on it is nothing short of _amazing_. And _amazing_ sex on it is like seeing the face of God for hours straight. 

Jensen really wants Jared to see God.

Jensen strips Jared slow, works his mouth down the landscape of Jared’s chest, his stomach, biting, sucking, leaving red marks behind, tongue circling Jared’s belly button before dipping inside. Jared’s fingers are locked around Jensen’s shoulder muscles, clenching so deep that it aches, sweet burn radiating down to the bone. Jared’s slick, sheathed in sweat now, every muscle knotted, standing out shiny and gorgeous against his skin. Jensen thumbs Jared’s jeans open, unzips them like he’s got all the time in the world, licking a slow wet trail all over the inviting vee of skin as it’s bared, Jared stretching, thrusting against him.

He’s beautiful, gorgeous, completely unselfconscious, totally letting Jensen do whatever he wants and loving every second of it. Jensen tugs Jared’s pants down past his hips. His fucking boots turn out to a bitch, and Jensen curses, trying to hurry through the laces, Jared chuckling and running a hand through his sweaty hair while he tries to catch his breath. Jensen finally gets him naked, eyes running over the carved musculature of him, Jared’s cock jutting up proudly from between his hips, and pauses to take a breath. 

“Jesus fuck…” Jensen whispers and then leans, licking up the crease of Jared’s inner thigh. “Might have to ride you myself sometime, just to see.”

Jared makes a sound like he’s strangling on his own tongue, and Jensen grins wickedly, nipping against thin skin.

Jared’s cock is hard and velvety warm, tip beading with a tiny pearl of precome. Jensen licks it off with the point of his tongue, relishes the taste of bitter salt and blows across the slit, Jared shivering underneath him.

He parts his lips and licks across them, touches them to the crown of Jared’s dick and swallows Jared with a slow twist of his head, tonguing against the center vein, and Jared cries out, hips driving up into Jensen.

“Uh unh,” Jensen hums around Jared’s cock, letting go of Jared’s body. He grabs Jared’s hands, yanking them from where they’re lodged in Jensen’s shoulders and slams them against the ground. He holds Jared there, mouth teasing the head as he slides up again, tongue swirling over the center vein. Jared lunges with his hips, but Jensen’s got the advantage now, draws his head back in time with Jared’s frantic shove so Jared can’t get any more sensation than what Jensen gives him.

Jared whimpers, groaning, hips pumping ceaselessly, trying so _hard_ , and Jensen just tongues under the head, lips wrapped around the tip and sucking slow.

“Oh my… fucking… God,” Jared gasps, shuddering, hips dancing against the rooftop.

Jensen’s got lube, but he’s had one of the best nights of his life, he’s high as fuck and Jared’s rolling and he’s in a fucking _mood_. He twists his head again, sinks down Jared’s cock and hums. Jared thrusts, gasping for air, and Jensen slides away to the tip, tonguing inside the slit of Jared’s cock, fingers locked around Jared’s wrists. 

Jensen sucks him with long laves of his tongue until Jared comes with a muffled shout, spurting hot and thick into Jensen’s mouth. Jensen holds it there, letting it swirl and settle against his tongue as he watches Jared shake and strain, head thrown back, whole body quivering, muscles locked still as stone.

Jensen lifts his chin, pulls his mouth free, and Jared jolts, still shuddering. Slides two fingers into his own mouth and pulls them out slick with come. He pushes Jared’s legs up, leans in and parts his lips, letting come spill out all over Jared’s pretty, pink rim and then tongues it, pushing come inside Jared’s body. Jared’s going crazy, tugging and pulling at Jensen’s hair. Jensen pulls his tongue out and runs his slick fingers over Jared’s hole, tracing the edge. Jared pushes, thrusting against the touch like he’s dying for more. Jensen shoves them inside, watching Jared stretch to take him, body writhing against the roof as tight heat closes around Jensen’s fingers.

Jared takes them easily, and Jensen fucks him with quick, deep thrusts, fingers scissoring. Jared grunts, arching like a cat on the tips of Jensen’s fingers, expression completely blissful.

Jensen pulls his fingers free, reaching for the condom in his pocket. He peels out of his clothes and rolls it on. Then, he mouths the rest of Jared’s come against the palm of his hand, wraps it around his cock and slicks it, not wasting a second guiding it to Jared’s body and pushing in. He falls against Jared with the rush of feeling Jared clenched tight around him, mouth meeting Jared’s, open and wet. Jared sucks the last traces of come from Jensen’s tongue as he clings to Jensen body, hips fused, rolling together. 

Sweating, straining, Jensen’s arms wrapped around Jared’s hot fucking body. Jensen is so incredibly high, and Jared feels so incredibly good, moaning and twisting around on the end of Jensen’s cock. Kissing deep and slow, wrapped around each other. Fuck. It’s even better than the first time.

“God, Jensen. Fucking _Christ_.” Jared is shivering, his whole body alive with pleasure, face and chest flushed, sweat rolling off of him. 

“You are so… fucking… incredible,” Jensen gasps, sliding out, Jared’s inner muscles clutching at Jensen’s cock like they don’t want to let go.

“Want you to fuck me harder,” Jared moans, mouth warm against Jensen’s. “Can’t break me.”

Jensen pistons his body, fucks into Jared mercilessly hard, pushing Jared’s legs against his chest and _pounding_. He grabs Jared’s ass in his palms and squeezes, holding him, arms flexing around the outsides of Jared’s thighs, keeping him spread wide, chests molded together. Jared’s head tilts back, mouth falling open, and Jensen bites Jared’s chin, picking up the pace until he’s fucking Jared so hard that Jared goes completely still, just feeling it. Sweet fucking friction, squeezing and tugging against Jensen’s cock, and he’s drilling into Jared so fast and deep that he thinks his dick might be sore tomorrow, but he could really care fucking less, because the way Jared’s clutching at him, just taking it, loving it—it’s so motherfucking crazy hot. Jensen can’t even talk, his whole body given to curling, thrusting, slamming into Jared until he can hardly breathe. He sinks his teeth into the tender skin of Jared’s throat and moans hot against Jared’s skin, feels Jared moan back.

Jared’s completely lost in the pleasure of it, and Jensen… Fuck, he’s going to come so goddamned _hard_. He can feel it building, stomach tightening with glorious pressure. Jensen yanks one hand off Jared’s ass, gets it around Jared’s cock and strokes; long smooth swipe of his palm.

“Jensen. Jensen—oh my fucking God.” Jared shudders and goes stiff, muscles straining, body arching off the asphalt, hands scrabbling against the roof, clawing at it helplessly. 

“Oh, hell yes,” Jensen whispers, eyes riveted on Jared’s face, wrist jerking him hard and fast, thumb pressed against the bundle of nerves under the head.

Jared comes, spurting, hips falling back down and hitting the ground, bucking and squirming, eyes squeezed shut, lower lip caught savagely between his teeth as his head thrashes back and forth. His whole body is shuddering around Jensen, tight as a fist around Jensen’s cock and Jensen slams into Jared one last time before he gives in, hissing out a string of curses. He doesn’t slow his breakneck pace at all, body moving with instinctive rhythm, crying out as the first, ragged burst pulls from him, so fucking exquisite that it blots out all thought. There’s nothing but Jared and the guttural, broken sounds they’re both making, pleasure pulled from them, bodies thrusting, squeezing, pulling against each other, nails biting skin. Jensen pulses one last time, whole body shaking, dripping sweat. He catches Jared’s lower lip between his teeth, licking across the swell before he shudders, pulling away and collapsing against Jared’s chest.

They’re both breathing too hard and fast, hearts trip-hammering in their chests. Jared twitches, gasping with an aftershock and Jensen moans, rocks his hips a little, quick bright spark of pleasure shooting all through him.

“Fuck,” Jared groans, dragging out the sound in a broken whisper. “I don’t even…”

“Yeah,” Jensen says with a quick breath, heart still pounding.

They’re a sweaty, fucked-out _mess_ , laying tangled on the rooftop, Jensen’s muscles trembling, burning with strain, Jared boneless underneath him but still holding on. The Nevada breeze is warm, caressing as it coasts across their bare, soaked skin, the low, dull rumble of cars rising from the street.

It feels… _good_. Pure, raw and honest. Human.

Jensen lets his eyes drift, riding on the thought, Jared’s fingers tracing the curve of Jensen’s spine. Jared’s touching him everywhere, fingers ceaseless, slow to the curve of Jensen’s ass, trailing back up his sides, delineating the lines of his ribs, up over his shoulders, across, meeting at the base of his neck. It should be weird, someone else—anyone except Justin--touching him like this, but Jared _is_ rolling, so that makes it pretty much normal in this case. The only thing that comes close to being touched when you’re rolling is touching other people. It feels kinda nice, anyway.

Jared takes a breath. “Tell me about the first time you played guitar.”

Jensen blinks, surprised by the question. “I’ve told that story dozens of times in interviews.”

“Yeah. But I wanna hear it firsthand. What was it _really_ like?” Jared arches against him, fingers playing at the base of Jensen’s spine. “Like… what did it _feel_ like, playing those first few notes?”

Jensen hesitates, thinks back to sitting on the floor of his parents house on Christmas morning. He was four years old, his dad sitting on the couch looking down at him with that fond smile, crackling fire in the fireplace, wrapping paper everywhere. He’d had to find the right sounds, first, plucking at the strings until he felt like he knew them. And then he’d played _London Bridge_ childish fingers feeling too thick and clumsy for the work, picking out the notes slow, halting, but perfectly. And it had felt…

“Like I understood something, completely, for the very first time.” Jensen shakes his head. “I was only four… but it was like… finding home. Like I never even knew what home meant before. That’s how it _felt_ , even though I didn’t have words for it at the time.”

Jensen almost expects Jared to laugh, but… Jared just looks at Jensen intently, nodding. “That’s awesome.”

Jensen feels the need to glance away, finally reaches down, pulls out of Jared before he _slips_ out and loses the condom. He sits up, rolls off the condom and ties it off, tries to figure out what to do with it and finally just sets it aside on the ground. There’s nothing to clean up with except his own shirt, and well, if he shows back up at the party shirtless, it surely won’t be the first time. He’s just about to reach for his pants when Jared speaks up.

“You leaving?”

Jensen pauses, sitting up on his knees. “Don’t have to,” he shrugs. “Thought I might get dressed though.”

“Why?” Jared asks him, like it’s the most natural question in the world. Jared’s still just laying there, hands tucked behind his head, gorgeously naked.

“You don’t wanna get dressed?”

“The breeze feels good, there’s nobody else here.” Jared shrugs like that’s answer enough, chest muscles flexing with the movement.

“Jared,” Jensen says shaking his head, eyes flowing over the lines and curves of Jared’s body. “Could you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Could you stop being so motherfucking _hot?_ Christ. You’re fucking killing me.”

“I’m killing _you_?” Jared laughs. “You looked in a mirror lately?”

“Thought you said you were used to that,” Jensen smirks.

“You’re still hot as fuck, Jensen. Rest of you’s pretty fucking awesome, too.” He’s looking at Jensen through half lidded eyes, stretched out like an invitation, and shit, Jensen can’t resist.

“Thought you weren’t a fanboy.” Jensen smirks good-naturedly as he crawls over to Jared, slides up his body and lays down again, chests and stomachs and cocks pressed together, and damn Jared feels good.

“Not.” Jared’s hands close around Jensen’s shoulders as he nibbles at Jensen’s mouth, neck rising up. “Does that mean I can’t like you?”

Jensen pulls away a little, teeth sliding together around his own tongue, staring down at Jared. “Doesn’t it?”

Jared just looks back, shaking his head, mouth curving in a smile. “You seriously need to get over yourself.”

“Fuck you,” Jensen chuckles, corners of his eyes crinkling.

“You already did,” Jared whispers, tongue teasing at Jensen’s ear, teeth closing around the lobe. “So either you need to get over yourself… or… You need to get out from under thinking no one could ever really like you.”

Jensen squints at Jared, tilting his head to the side. “Are you on a philosophical roll? Or are you on a sex roll?”

“Can’t I be on both?” Jared asks, kissing Jensen’s lower lip.

“Not legally,” Jensen smirks.

“Damn. Guess you better fuck me again, then,” Jared breathes.

He’s so goddamned sexy, the way he says it, and Jensen’s been feeling his cock slowly harden against Jared’s body. “No more condoms,” Jensen whispers, kissing him.

“In my pants pocket,” Jared points.

Jensen’s reaching blindly for Jared’s pants, tongue swirling, circling Jared’s, chins angling together when Jensen’s phone rings. Jensen groans and pulls free, fumbling for his own pants, digging his phone out of the pocket. He sighs when he sees who it is.

“It’s Mike.”

“You gotta answer it, huh?”

“Maybe I should just tell him?” Jensen asks with a smirk. “‘Can’t talk now, dude, I’m sexually harassing my roadie?’” Jensen’s laughing just _thinking_ about the expression on Mike’s face.

Jared’s cracking up, hand smothering his mouth as Jensen answers the phone.

“Hey, Mike.”

“Jen. Where the fuck _are_ you? I’ve got like a million people down here who wanna talk to you about tonight.”

Jensen sighs. “Yeah. I’ll be right there. Hey—Mike? Have a shirt waiting for me outside the door, okay?”

“Sure thing, babe,” Mike says, knowing note in his voice.

“Part of the lifestyle,” Jared smiles, when Jensen hangs up.

“Yeah.” He looks at Jared for a second, feeling like he should have something more to say than goodbye. “Sorry to duck out.”

“I’ll be fine.”

All of a sudden, everything feels _awkward_ , and Jensen has no idea what to do. “So… I guess… I’ll see you?”

“Yeah, man,” Jared smiles. “I’ll see you around.”

Jensen heads back for the roof door wearing his jeans and nothing else, t-shirt in his hand. He glances back before he steps through the doorway, and Jared’s still lying there naked, staring up at the sky, hands folded behind his head.

*

There’s an intern outside the door that trades him shirts and opens the door for him. The party is harsh, loud and noisy compared to the peace of the rooftop, and Jensen flinches for a second before he readjusts.

“Jenny, where the hell you been?” Chad demands, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “This party’s fucking rocking.”

“Was just… getting some air,” Jensen smiles.

“More like coming _up_ for air,” Chad grins, and thrusts a beer into Jensen’s hand.

Jensen takes a drink, wraps his arm around Chad. “I gotta go do the PR thing, Mike’s bitching… but… later on tonight… can we talk?”

“You got it, Jen,” Chad says, and kisses his cheek, sloppy and drunk.

*

Everything’s too crazy for Jensen to catch up with Chad until it’s fuck o’clock in the morning, and when Jensen finally gets free of the crowd, Justin waylays him, pushing him against the wall.

“Thought you disappeared with one of Nickelback’s groupies,” Jensen breathes.

“Did.” Justin shrugs, hands sliding up over Jensen’s chest. “Nothing compared to you, Jen.” Justin seizes Jensen’s lower lip between his teeth, pulls back, tongue flashing out over the shape. “Wanna go somewhere?” Justin whispers.

Jensen’s still kinda pissed about fighting the other night, and he hesitates.

“Come on,” Justin says, fingers curling at the base of Jensen’s neck. “Awesome night like this? We should be together.”

Jensen fucks him pressed up against the bathroom wall, Justin gripping the towel rack like a lifeline, rocking into Jensen, all sweat and need, Jensen’s fingers clenched in his hair, other hand locked around Justin’s cock. Justin comes, all over Jensen’s hand, the tiled bathroom wall, hot and slick, and Jensen fucks him harder, deeper, driving into him again and again.

“Fucking God _yes_ , Jen,” Justin whispers, ragged, still coming, clenching around Jensen’s cock. Jensen feels his orgasm rush him, speeding through his body like wildfire, spilling hot inside Justin, teeth fastened in Justin’s shoulder, hand pulling Justin’s head back even further.

It’s amazingly hot—Justin’s always amazingly hot—and when it’s over, Jensen kisses Justin’s throat, leans his head into the curve of Justin’s shoulder and just… breathes.

“Love you, Jen.”

Jensen’s eyes close against the words.

*

The Albuquerque show is another moment of peace, and the after party is pretty quiet. The room is full of people, and about half of them are talking in low voices and moving slowly, a few already passed out on the floor. Mostly, Jensen’s guessing, because of the weed the other band’s bassist brought.

“The Crucial Spruce, man,” he grins, holding up the bag for Jensen to smell. He’s got long, stringy hair and a face to match. Sharp, pointy nose and puffy eyes, slitted so thin and red that Jensen can’t help comparing him to a rat. Jensen barely holds back a laugh that would send the “Crucial Spruce” flying everywhere. Jensen’s pretty high on their own shit already, but he’s gotta admit, this smells pretty amazing. 

“Two hits,” the bassist promises, “and you’ll forget your own name.”

“What?” Chad yells from across the room, and how the fuck he heard that, Jensen has no idea. “Bullshit,” Chad snorts, shouldering through the crowd to them.

The bassist holds up a slow finger, swaying on his feet as he tries to look Chad in the eye. “On my way over here? I forgot where I was going. _Twice_.”

Chad frowns. “Dude. That’s a five minute trip.”

“Ahhahaha,” the guy laughs, pointing at Chad like he just said something incredibly clever. “ _Exactly_.”

Chad takes the guy up on his challenge, and after four bong hits, he’s laying on the bed, talking in tongues.

Rat-guy passes Jensen the bong for the second time, and Jensen takes a long slow hit, holds it, feels the smoke curl in his lungs. Christ. He’s about fucked. He passes the bong and the lighter back.

Rat-guy pauses, mouth about to wrap around the end of the bong, lighter struck over the bong. “What… what were we just talking about?”

Jensen thinks, thoughts clicking and whirring, not quite catching. “Fuck. I don’t know.”

“Me neither,” Rat-guy says, nodding like it’s important. “That’s like the third time.”

“All we can remember is that we can’t forget that we forgot to remember,” Jensen laughs, rubbing a hand across his face.

“Dude.” Rat-guy is staring. “What you just said there. That’s some fucking profound shit.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just hit that shit and pass it along.”

Rat-guy takes his hit, giving Jensen the eye the whole time, and it’s about time to get the fuck out of here.

Jensen takes one last hit, smoke hitting him like a gunshot, eyes closing, breathing in deep.

“Yeah, that’s it, man,” Rat-guy says, clapping a hand against Jensen’s shoulder.

Music plays in the background, 80’s keyboard, pulling to the forefront of his mind.

_You can look at the menu but you just can’t eat  
You can feel the cushions but you can’t have a seat  
You can dip your foot in the pool but you can’t have a swim  
You can feel the punishment but you can’t commit the sin_

Jensen’s head tilts back haphazardly against the couch, exhale leaving him without thought. The world is spinning and he’s _so_ gloriously tired. Everything is outside of time, music playing on the stereo, warped and teasing at him.

_And you want her and she wants you  
We want everyone  
And you want her and she wants you  
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame_

Hands tug away the bong caught between his hands, and he drifts, spiraling down a slow corridor into sleep, image of Jared laid out on the rooftop silent and peaceful following him down.

When he wakes in the morning, Rat-guy is long gone, and the room is mostly empty except for his own people. He sits up, breathes deep and runs a hand through his hair, considering the coffee maker on the hotel room shelf.

He _thinks_ he remembers how to make coffee. Water into the back end, fresh coffee grinds in the filter…

He falls back down against the couch, deciding coffee doesn’t mean _shit_ until Jeff wakes him roughly, shaking Jensen’s shoulder.

“Rise and shine, sunshine. Time to go.”

Coffee’s really important then.

*

It’s about 5a.m. after the San Antonio show and Jensen and Chad are sitting companionably close on the couch in the hotel room, sharing a joint and a bottle of whiskey. Sandy’s already passed out on the bed, and Mike’s talking to some producer chick on the other side of the room—probably more for her tits than for her connections, from what Jensen can see—and Justin’s… in the walk-in closet, either passed out with some chick or fucking her. Jensen’s not sure; they’ve been gone so long it could go either way. This has been the topic of discussion between Chad and Jensen for the last couple minutes.

“Ten bucks says he passed out in the _middle_ of fucking her,” Chad says, exhaling a huge cloud of smoke.

Jensen laughs, sucks a hit off the joint. “I’ll take that bet.” He grins, edging the words out around the lungful of smoke he’s holding.

Chad grins, their pinkies intertwining for the briefest of seconds, sealing the deal. “So what the fuck did you wanna talk to me about the other night, anyway?”

Jensen thinks for a long second, then sighs, passing the joint off to Chad. “Jared.”

“Yeah?” Chad asks, lifting his eyes to Jensen as he takes a deep drag. “What about him?”

“I just…” Jensen hands meet across his lap, twisting together. “What’s his deal? Why isn’t he singing professionally? He’s got the voice, the looks, and he’s definitely got the charisma,” Jensen shrugs, spreading his thumbs apart. “People seem to really like him.”

Chad laughs, coughing smoke. “Everybody loves Jared. He’s one of the most laid back, fucking awesome people you’ll ever meet. Have you _seen_ the way the rest of the crew is with him?”

Jensen has a flash of the people at the pool, laughing and clustering around Jared. 

“Jared’s _totally_ the real deal,” Chad informs him, squinting around the end of the joint. “ _That’s_ why he isn’t out fronting some bullshit band.”

“Why isn’t he out there singing _something_ , though?”

“Why are you so interested him, anyway?” Chad’s giving Jensen that odd look again.

“I’ve been getting to know him—“

“So I hear,” Chad remarks, voice wry.

Jensen rolls his eyes and lets that pass. “He seems like a good guy. I’m just curious.”

“Just curious,” Chad echoes, nodding to himself. “Right.”

Chad takes a deep breath, passes the joint to Jensen, lacing his fingers around the fifth in his hands. “The band I was in before I joined with you guys… You remember what I told you about our lead singer walking out on us?” 

“Yeah…James or Jay or something…” Jensen tilts his head, wondering where the hell this is going.

“Yeah,” Chad says, smiling nostalgically. “Jay. He kinda dropped the nickname after the band split.”

“Wait.” Jensen’s _trying_ to understand, he really is. “Are you saying…?”

“Yeah.” Chad nods. “Me and Jared and Milo, we were best friends, played together… three years in high school, and the summer after we graduated, we got noticed. We were on the verge, Jen, the next big thing. Record contract and everything.” Chad leans further back into the couch, shoulder shifting against Jensen’s. “But when we went into the studio, our agent wanted us to write new songs, something less deep and heavy, something he could sell to fucking Clear Channel. Some bands have a certain emotion that connects with people, and that’s enough to carry them. We had that, and Jared fucking knew it. The agent didn’t. So Jared quit. Walked out, right there on the spot and severed the contract.”

Jensen takes a minute to let that sink in. Then, he squints at Chad, trying to figure out if Chad is fucking with him. “I can’t believe… Why didn’t you mention this before?”

Chad sighs again, shifts his shoulders. “We don’t really talk about it… because… Milo. Milo, he always wanted to make it big, you know? Wanted to be a star. One of those guys who’s got something to prove to the world. To himself, I guess. He was…usually pretty strung out most of the time on some vowel or another…” Chad shakes his head. “But we loved him.”

“Half the reason Jared signed that record deal was because Milo wanted it. And when it all went south… well, Milo freaked. He disowned Jared… and it broke Jared’s heart. We all went our separate ways after that. Milo… he…” Chad purses his lips then folds them together in a thin line. The lace of his fingers squeezes, flexing. “He went on, playing with another band. Jared and me, we drifted some, me trying out for bands and him roadie-ing. I kind of lost track of Milo… and then about six months later… I got the call.” Chad’s eyes flick up to meet Jensen’s. “They found Milo in a hotel room in New York City, needle still sticking out of his arm. I was still listed as next of kin along with Jared…” Chad chokes out a bitter laugh, spreads his hands. “Hell. We’d all been tight since high school, you know?” Chad closes his eyes, shakes his head.

“Fucking Christ,” Jensen mutters, heartsick. “That… must have been hard for both of you.”

“It hit us both hard. Jared… he took it even harder than me. We were both pretty fucked up for a while, but we dealt, you know. What else can you do? And Milo… I think he was always headed there, anyway. Maybe if we hadn’t all gone our separate ways, it would have taken longer… but.” Chad shrugs.

“God… Chad. I’m so sorry.” Words don’t feel adequate at this point, but he doesn’t know what else to say and he has to say _something_. Chad nods, and Jensen hesitates a long time before he asks, “How… long has it been?”

“About five years since he died. Still... _That’s_ why we don’t talk about it. Not the most fun memories to revisit. And walking out on his first record contract didn’t do the best things for Jared’s rep with producers, you know? You don’t wanna spread that kinda shit around any more than it already is.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. But still… he’s good enough that someone would sign him. He could still be singing.”

“He still does. Just not so much onstage. He’s not trying to get famous, Jen. He could _care_ about famous.”

Jensen takes a long drag of the joint before it’s all gone, holds and exhales his words. “I still can’t believe I never heard you mention him before I met him.”

“Me and Jared, we’ll always be tight, but we don’t always keep in touch like we should. Not much to mention about him the last three years that’d be of any interest to you, til now.”

Jensen passes the roach back, nodding, thoughtful. It makes… sense, but…not all the way. Something’s still missing.

“Chad… was there… someone…? I mean… Someone in Jared’s life?”

Chad’s holding the whiskey clenched tight in one hand, joint in the other, staring at Jensen with an intense expression of curiosity. “The fuck do you care, Jenny?”

Jensen grits his teeth together jaw clenching as he looks away. “Just… I get the feeling like… There was someone who really hurt him once.”

“I look like I’m fucking Kurt Loder to you? Your dirt scoop exclusive on Jared? We all get hurt,” Chad shrugs, throwing the roach into the ashtray. 

Yeah, everybody gets hurt. But Jensen… Jensen’s got a feeling about this one. And he probably shouldn’t ask, but there’s a lot of things he probably shouldn’t do that he does on a regular fucking basis, anyway. 

He clears his throat, makes his voice as gentle and neutral as he can. “Was it Milo?”

Chad huffs, turns his face away. “Dammit, Jen. That part’s not mine to tell.” 

It’s all the answer Jensen really needs. “So it was.”

“God dammit.” Chad sits forward, shoulders hunched as he shakes his head. “You fuckin’ suck, Jen. If it was anybody else, I’d tell them to fuck off. But since it’s you...” Chad suddenly turns, pointing a finger at Jensen, face stern. “You never, _ever_ mention to Jared that I told you this, get me?” 

Jensen nods and Chad lowers his hand and sighs. 

“Yeah,” he says, after a moment. “Jared had a thing for Milo… he was in love with him for years. As in love as you can be with someone who isn’t the slightest bit interested in dating you, anyway. But Jared still wouldn’t back down on the contract, not even when Milo flipped. He wanted to do it real, or not do it at all. He tried, you know, convincing Milo that just playing our music was enough, but Milo took it completely personally, like everything else, and he walked. Jared felt like it was his fault, when Milo died.”

“Fuck.” Jensen tries to imagine Jared going through something like that; Jared, with his big heart and his bright smile. “Does he… still feel that way?”

“It was a bad time for him. But Jared, he’s _strong_. He got through it eventually. He’s still the same old Jared. He hasn’t changed much at all. But he’s not looking to get chatty about what happened, know what I’m saying? So, if you ever mention to him that I told you about him and Milo, I’ll kick your fucking ass, dude, swear. If he ever wants to talk about it—which I sincerely fucking doubt—you let him bring it up.”

“I understand,” Jensen says, nodding again.

“I know you do, Jen.” Chad leans back and nudges shoulders with Jensen. “Had to say it anyway. You know how it is.” Chad hesitates, and then passes Jensen the whiskey. “It’s been a long time since it happened; we’re both as over it as we’re ever gonna get. Hardly even hurts anymore. Still, if it wasn’t you asking, I wouldn’t’ve said fuck all about any of it. You’re a good guy, Jen. I know Jared thinks so, too.” 

“Does he talk to you about me?” Jensen asks, suddenly curious.

Chad laughs. “Ah. Nah, nah, nah, Jenny,” he says, punctuating each word with a shake of his head. “I love you and all, but I’m not going there.”

“Fine,” Jensen sticks his tongue out at Chad. Chad just stares at Jensen for a second, and then they both crack up.

“What are you, two years old?”

“Sometimes,” Jensen shrugs.

Chad cuts Jensen a thoughtful look, about to say something else.

The closet door opens then, and the girl walks out, combing quick fingers through her hair. Her eye make-up is smeared around the edges and her mouth isn’t nearly as red as it was when she first disappeared. She walks to the bathroom, and Chad looks at Jensen with a raised brow. Jensen just waits, eyeing the door. Another minute goes by and Chad shifts next to him.

“Looks like you—“ Chad starts to say.

The closet door opens again and Justin emerges, smirking and buttoning his jeans.

Jensen holds out his hand wordlessly and Chad sighs, slapping a ten dollar bill against Jensen’s palm.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

They head south the next morning to the Chihuahuan Desert.

“What are we doing today?” Justin asks, running a hand through his hair and blinking sleepily.

“What day _is_ it?” Jensen adds, already busy filling his fuzzy head full of coffee.

“What _month_ is it?” Chad yawns.

“Monday, April 28,” Mike answers, droll. “Two-thousand eight,” he adds when Chad starts to open his mouth again. “We’re doing a two day music video shoot in the desert for the next single.

“Oh man,” Justin groans, falling back down against the bed.

Music videos always suck. Two sixteen hour days crammed together shooting the same scenes over and over again.

The studio turns out to be an old, private air hangar that’s been converted. Most of the studio shots seem to revolve around Justin’s naked chest, which gets a lot of screen time while he rolls around on a king size bed with some model chick. Then the whole band spends four hours on stage with all their equipment under a studio produced thunderstorm. Jensen’s soggy, cold and soaked to the bone by the time they’re through. Then there’s some more stage shots, sans thunderstorm this time, and then the rest of the band gets cut loose for the evening while Justin does some more solo shots and a couple more with the girl. Jensen gets a couple hours of sleep, and then they spend every hour from dawn until dusk shooting in the desert. 

The morning shoot involves the band baking in the sun on top of the tour bus, huge fans set up and blowing hot wind into their faces to give the illusion of the bus moving while they play on the roof. The director assures them that they’ll add the effects of the bus actually driving along the desert road in post-production. Justin wants to add this bit where he leaps from the roof of the bus to the hood with the mic stand and keeps singing while he leans forward into the ‘motion’ of the bus. The director loves the idea, but Mike pitches a fit about the possibility of Justin getting hurt. They finally work it out so that there’s a line attached to Justin that’ll keep him from falling off and hitting the ground. That adds another hour of shooting on the roof and Jensen’s pretty much running on fumes between the heat and the lack of sleep.

Justin gives him a bump during the break between sets and then everything gets better—even if they do spend the whole afternoon shooting under the sun. They play on the desert floor for a while, and then along the edge of a cliff, cameras angled upward at them from the ground below. The sunset scenes involve Justin pretty much completely naked, positioned carefully on a rock so there’s no actual frontal nudity. It’s pretty, the light and the shadow on Justin’s naked body, but Jensen doesn’t get it.

“What do you think this video’s gonna be about?” he finally asks Sandy. 

“You mean besides the ode to Justin’s chest?” she asks with a smirk. 

“Chest fest,” Chad agrees, lighting a cigarette.

“Poor Justin. He’s so objectified,” Sandy chuckles. “Look how much he hates it.”

Justin’s pretty much preening for the cameras, and Jensen is torn between wanting to laugh and mourn for how shallow this all is. He knows they don’t have time to do their own videos anymore, but he remembers how he and Justin had loved coming up with concepts, working out the scenes. It makes him a little sad. 

What doesn’t, these days?

He glances away, off to the side. There’s a group of people waiting around, and Jensen spots Jared sitting on a low rock, shirt pulled off and slung across his lap, turning up a water bottle, throat moving as he devours it. Jared’s sweating, muscles gleaming, hot as Jensen feels. He gets halfway through the bottle, then pulls it from his mouth, pours it over his face, into his hair, water cascading, splashing down over the gorgeous muscles in his chest. He’s shirtless, but it’s so natural and unselfconscious, so much sexier than anything Jensen’s seen on camera today.

Jared runs a hand through his hair, droplets running down his neck, and then finishes the last swallow of water in the bottle. Christ. Jensen wants to drop everything and drag him off to a trailer right _now_.

So yeah, that’s not exactly making him unhappy.

Jared lifts a hand and waves when he spots Jensen looking. Jensen bites down on the inside of his cheek and waves back. He looks back at the set and wonders what Jared thinks of the shoot. When he glances over again, Jared’s talking to someone beside him, not paying any attention to the scene.

Jensen finds himself wishing he was over there instead of standing here, watching this.

*

They shoot a few final scenes in the studio, and by the end of the night Jensen’s completely wiped, coming down off the bumps he did to keep himself going all day. He’s trying to find the energy to push up from the bench seat and head for his bunk when Justin slides in next to him, looking tired but satisfied.

Mike steps into the room and holds up a hand. “All right guys, get some sleep. Tomorrow we’re flying out to play a benefit show in New York. MTV’s gonna be there, so we need to be at our best.”

“Where in New York?” Justin asks, head resting against Jensen’s shoulder.

“Poughkeepsie.” 

“Poughkeepsie?” Jensen echoes.

Justin nudges his shoulder against Jensen’s. “You remember Poughkeepsie, don’t you, Jen?” Justin turns his face, mouth sliding slow and wet over Jensen’s. 

Nine years ago, and Jensen and Justin hadn’t been together yet. Both of them were eighteen, and Justin had been seeing Brian. Jensen had been insane with jealousy at the time, had written _I’m the One_. They’d played it for the first time that night in Poughkeepsie, the two of them drunk and high after, stumbling to their hotel room with their arms wrapped around each other, giggling, hips falling against the door. 

Justin had been gorgeous, t-shirt soaked and clinging to him in all the right places, hair falling into his eyes as he’d laughed, glitter streaking his eyelids, cheeks. Warm and so alive under Jensen’s arm, and he’d looked at Jensen like Jensen was the only person that existed.

Justin, falling against the wall of the room, Jensen dragging him back up, and they’d laughed, so long and hard that they’d both nearly fallen down together, hands scrabbling, clinging to each other to stay upright. Jensen had fallen against Justin, weight shoving him against the wall, arms around his waist, and then Justin…

_…dips his chin, mouth warm and still tacky with a coating of lip gloss, taste of strawberry crushing against Jensen’s lips, tongue flickering out to taste._

_Jensen grabs him by the hips, shoves himself backwards, eyes wide, heart thundering. “What the fuck?”_

_Justin shoves back, pushing away from the wall, spinning Jensen in a slow circle into the room. “I was…” he breathes, eyes focused on Jensen’s mouth. “Thinking about Brian. How he likes to hold me down and fuck me.”_

_Jensen shoves him away, Justin’s back hitting the tall dresser of the room with a loud smack, one hand clattering against the drawers._

_Justin looks surprised for a second, and then he laughs. “I was gonna say…” he says, collecting himself as he straightens his body, slim waist lining up with his hips. He takes a step towards Jensen, one hand running through his sweat-slick hair. “That lately…” another slow step, those eyes fixing on Jensen with heat. “When I’m with Brian… I’ve been thinking about _you_. Wondering what it’d be like to be with you. What it’d be like if _you_ held me down and fucked me, instead.”_

_“You wouldn’t know what to do if I held you down and fucked you, Justin.” Jensen’s eyes narrow, squinting at Justin with an edge of danger as he takes a step closer. Justin does **not** get to fuck with him. Not about **this**. _

_Justin takes another step across the carpet, chin tilting up just a little more as he meets Jensen’s gaze. “Wanna find out?” he asks, voice a breathy whisper against Jensen’s mouth._

_The air in the room feels suddenly heavy, charged with the crackle of electricity between them._

_“All these years, Jenny.” Justin’s lips brush his with grazing warmth. “Think I’ll live up to your expectations?”_

_“No.” Jensen’s hands grab Justin’s hips, yank him rough and quick against Jensen’s body. Dull heat in his voice, gravelly whisper as he looks Justin up and down. “No way you could.”_

_“Still be fun to find out,” Justin breathes, chin nudging Jensen’s, hips rocking into him. Hands sliding down Jensen’s back, cupping the curve of Jensen’s ass._

_Their hearts are both pounding, frantic, like they’re trying to beat right out of their chests. Heavy, quick, stuttering breaths the only sound, and Jensen closes his eyes. Sucks breath into his lungs, feels them expand. Fuck. He can’t smell anything but sweat and Justin. The feel of him, all over Jensen, conscious of everywhere Justin’s touching him, body hot and willing against him, fingertips sparking fire against Jensen’s skin. Mouths a bare millimeter apart, sharing heated breath._

_This is everything he’s ever wanted, ever since he knew what want was. There’s every reason in the world he shouldn’t take it. Their friendship, the band, everything._

_He doesn’t give a **fuck**._

_He shoves Justin to the floor, kissing him on the way down, and fuck, he’s sweet, desperate, needy, fingers clawing at Jensen. Jensen’s weight falling hard and heavy on top of him, and Justin breathes out hard, opens his mouth wider, grabs the back of Jensen’s head and pulls him deeper. Jensen’s got his hands everywhere, under Justin’s shirt, yanking desperately at Justin’s belt buckle, shoving his jeans down, kicking them off with his own feet, stripping Justin until he’s bare, laid out on the floor under Jensen like a gift._

_“Come on, Jen,” Justin breathes, hot and heavy into his mouth. “Fucking do it. Waited too long already.”_

He remembers fucking Justin for hours, Justin begging him for more, faster, harder, beautiful and coming apart again and again under Jensen’s hands, the thrust of his hips.

He was glorious. Perfect. 

After, smoking by the windowsill, Justin wrapped in the hotel comforter, his voice talking Jensen down into sleep. The way they’d laid in bed the next morning, kissing and teasing, talking. It felt like everything; like the world opening up. Like anything was possible, their whole lives ahead of them. Every moment, every movement, burned into his brain, carefully etched treasure that he almost never takes out of the box.

Yeah. Jensen remembers Poughkeepsie. 

*

Justin is animated, draped across Jensen’s lap for most of the plane ride, talking about old times. At first, Jensen thinks he’s bumping, but his eyes aren’t glazed, not a bit of glisten in them that isn’t genuine excitement.

“I wish we had time to go home. Get my mom to make her peach cobbler for us like she used to in the summertime.” Justin sighs, happily contented at the thought. “Go down to the lake, out on the old rickety dock. Get high and watch the sun go down.” 

Jensen feels a pang of longing for those days. God. Everything so simple.

No. Nothing was ever simple. But it was more _pure_.

“Me, too,” he whispers, kissing Justin, soft and warm.

They land a half hour from Albany. The second they hit the ground Justin takes a deep breath and smiles.

“Smell that?”

Jensen quirks a slow smile, nods.

“Smells like home,” Justin breathes. 

*

The show turns out to rock, Justin completely on and involved, dancing, stomping from band member to band member, singing as he moves in time with them, leaning in close. By the time they get to the encore, Jensen’s sweating and feeling high on the energy alone. The stage lights come up blazing, and Justin burns beautifully beneath them, spotlight in his dark eyes and white-blond hair. He announces the song as _I’m the One_ , and Jensen tightens his fingers against the frets instinctively, starts to play. God, he’d been so young when he’d written this. Pining for Justin. And they’d played it here for the first time, in this very town…

_I'm the one  
I’ve been here for you all along  
I'm the one  
Whose shoulder you've been cryin’ on  
Nice guys finish last_

Jensen sucks in a hard breath as he strums over the strings. _This_ song, now, tonight, _here_ … 

_No one knows as good as me  
we're just good friends  
and you come to me for sympathy  
you tell me that I'm not your type  
still you call me late at night  
every time he picks a fight_

Justin turns to him, locks eyes with Jensen and smiles as he sings.

_After all he's said and all he's done  
I'm the one  
I've been here for you all along  
I'm the one  
Whose shoulder you've been cryin on  
He's a total dick  
that's the truth and you know I'm right  
from everything you say  
there’s no way he'll ever do you right _

Justin walks closer to him, half dancing across the stage, still staring Jensen down. He wrote it for Justin, and now Justin’s singing it to _him_. And just like always, when Justin looks at him like that, he forgets everything else.

_You love a man who treats you wrong  
you think you'll change him  
but you're wrong  
he'll use you he'll say so long  
after all he's said and all he's done_

Justin leans into him, shoulders pressing together, and Jensen looks up, fingers still moving as he meets Justin’s eyes, grins back as hard as Justin’s grinning at him. Justin opens his mouth, starts singing, mic still held to Jensen’s mouth, and Jensen plays the notes, sings back up.

_I’m the one  
I've been here for you all along  
I'm the one  
whose shoulder you've been cryin’ on  
I'm the one who wants you more than anything_

Fingers digiting along the frets, racing down into the solo. The stage lights are bright and hot, sweat rolling down Jensen's face, dripping down his chest. Fingertips flying, other hand strumming the strings, and he knows the spotlights are all turned on him, burning against his skin. He yanks his hand up the neck of the guitar, fingers moving without any help at all from his brain, dancing back down, metal coil of the strings against his skin, holding chords, twisting out sound.

He feels like he can fly, like he’s going to live forever, _will_ live forever, so long as there’s music to be played.

Lights flashing, blue, red, green, and the crowd is going wild, screaming so loud that Jensen can hear them over the roar of their instruments.

He grabs for the whammy bar on the high note, holds and shakes it, wailing it, letting it fade off into the sound of drums and bass.

Justin turns his face, forehead pressing into Jensen’s, so close, eye to eye as he sings the next verse.

_You don't feel the same way you made it clear to me  
but I'll stand my ground and maybe  
you'll hear what I've been sayin’_

Justin pushes his chin into Jensen’s as Jensen’s fingers fly down the guitar, white-hot spotlight focusing on them.

Mouths barely brushing, and it’s not much. It’s not even a fucking footnote since Pete Wentz. But the way it feels…

Justin is still grinning as he sings into the mic.

_After all I’ve said and all I've done  
I'm the one  
I’ve been here for you all along  
I’m the one  
whose shoulder you've been cryin’ on  
I’m the one  
I've been here for you all along  
I’m the one  
whose shoulder you've been cryin’ on  
I’m the one_

Justin yanks away, plays to the crowd as he finishes out the song with an energetic repetition of _I’m the one_.

Jensen looks down at his guitar, finishes the notes with a resounding rhythm in his body. 

The crowd is thrashing and screaming, Justin dragging Jensen into the spotlight and hugging him tight.

*

“What the fuck was _that_?” Mike yells above the crowd as they leave the stage.

“What was _what_?” Justin demands, grabs Jensen and pulls him in, mouth crashing into Jensen’s.

“Fine,” Mike yells, throwing up his hands. “We don’t have time right now, anyway. They’re waiting for us in the press room.” He makes a ‘follow me’ motion, stalking off towards the door.

“You know…” Sandy says thoughtfully. “I bet he shaves his head so he doesn’t pull all his hair out.”

Jensen snorts.

*

Mike lectures them the whole way to the press room anyway, telling them what to say if anyone asks them. Justin rolls his eyes and glances at Jensen, making a ‘blah blah blah’ motion with his fingers. Jensen stifles a laugh and then tries to nod seriously when Mike turns on him.

They both crack up, anyway, and Mike is clearly pissed.

“We got it, Mike,” Jensen assures.

“You fucking _better_ ,” Mike hisses, shaking his head as he throws open the press room door.

They do an interview with MTV--who’s covering the event--Justin stealing the mic from Jensen again and again, the two of them laughing, arms wrapped around each other as confetti falls and they talk about the show and the charity. 

“So, everybody’s dying to know about the onstage kiss. What’s up with that?”

“Ah, you know, we just got caught up in performing,” Justin says, waving a hand through the air. “You know how it is.”

“Not even a thing between best friends of fourteen years,” Jensen smiles, falling right into the groove.

“First time in the eight years of T Minus Zero… seems like a pretty big deal.” The interviewer is entirely too interested—not to mention entirely too perky, blonde and plastic looking--and Jensen has an overwhelming urge to yank her undoubtedly lacy underwear right up to her fake-ass smile.

Justin flashes the girl his biggest, flirtiest smile. “See? He’s cute isn’t he? He’s so pretending for the cameras. He’s totally gonna kick my ass for it later,” Justin confides like it’s a secret, winking. 

Jensen stifles a laugh behind his hand, pretending to cough. “Totally,” he hacks, hand still covering his mouth.

“Can I just stay here?” Justin asks, pointing at the ground in front of him. “All night? You know, in front of the cameras?” Justin leans towards the camera lens, speaking to the audience as he whispers “Save me” with wide comical eyes.

Jensen wraps an arm around his neck, yanks Justin back to standing straight, and shoots him a look, pointing back and forth between them as if saying ‘you and me, buddy’.

And Jensen’s _not_ kidding—it’s totally gonna be _them_ later—just not the way the audience is supposed to think. Justin smirks, getting it completely, looking back to the girl without missing a beat, dazzling smile on display.

The terminally cheerful interviewer seems charmed enough by their routine that she moves on to the next question.

“You’re both from Albany, about an hour and a half away. What’s it like, being back in New York, so close to your hometown?”

“Like old times,” Justin answers, smiling sidelong at Jensen.

“Like we never left,” Jensen adds, smiling back.

*

They stay for the MTV after party, band spread out across the room, making nice with the guests and having martinis. Jensen can’t even keep track of all the people he talks to, eyes sliding across the room to meet Justin’s every few minutes, Justin looking back, both of them totally focused on each other, no matter who they’re talking to.

It’s sunrise as they board the plane, first golden streaks highlighting the sky. They’re finally on the airstrip, away from all the cameras, the careful PR, and they’re halfway up the stairs when Justin throws an arm around Jensen’s neck, yanks him in for a hard kiss. 

“All right, all right,” Mike murmurs like a weary parent, hand pushing each of their asses up the stairs. “Save it for the plane, huh?”

*

When they arrive back in Texas, the sun is rising again and the bus is waiting for them. Jensen climbs aboard, jet-lagged, still drunk and half-asleep, but happy. Justin curls close around him in the bunk, kissing him, arms entwined, bodies pressed close together, grinding, rubbing, until Jensen grabs him, flips him over and strips him out of his clothes. He spreads Justin’s legs, tongue dipping into the heat between, rimming him until Justin’s writhing, face buried in the pillow, hips thrusting into Jensen’s face. Jensen slicks himself, then slides up Justin’s body, chest molding to Justin’s back, stomach resting against the curve of his spine. “Like this?” he whispers, kissing the sweaty mess of hair at the base of Justin’s neck. 

“Anyway you want it, Jen,” Justin breathes back, arching, ass pushing into Jensen’s cock. “Always so good.”

Jensen wraps his arms around Justin’s waist, pushes inside with one long, slow thrust.

“Fuck.” He gasps the word, biting deep into the muscle of Justin’s shoulder, skin sliding, sweat-slick between his teeth. So good, hot and tight, always, always, always as good as the first time. Justin arches, thrusts into him, wanting more, and Jensen slides a hand into Justin’s hair, tugs the short strands. Too short, he thinks for a split second, and then he moves, hips shoving, and he forgets, lost in the way Justin feels, clenched tight around him, bodies moving in perfect counterpoint. 

“Wait,” Justin gasps. “Not like this. Wanna… wanna see you.”

Jensen takes one last shivering thrust, then sits up on his knees, lifting Justin’s hips with his movement. He takes one of Justin’s legs, bends it and starts to turn him, one hand guiding his hip, other spinning his leg up and over, Justin’s body moving willingly, completing the motion until he’s turned onto his back, Jensen still sheathed inside him.

Justin runs his hands up Jensen’s neck, into his hair, pulls Jensen down into a rough, slow kiss. Jensen fucks him with quick, deep strokes, hips angling up, cock stroking over Justin’s sweet spot until Justin’s so wound up that he’s kissing, biting at Jensen’s lips, begging.

“Come on, Jen. Give it to me.” Words breathed hot into his mouth, bodies sliding, slipping against each other. Jensen thrusts hard, deep, holds, then out and then again, Justin gasping, nails raking trails down Jensen’s back. Sweet, burning sting, catching fire under Jensen’s skin, and he shoves deep again, hands fisted in Justin’s hair, mouths locked together, molten and melting.

He slides one hand down Justin’s body, teasing at the head of Justin’s cock before he wraps his hand around it, strokes and fills Justin with one sharp thrust. Justin’s so alive, sweating, needing, coming apart underneath Jensen, and Jensen twists his wrist, thumbing the wet slit of Justin’s cock as he slams deep inside him. Justin’s nails dig into his back, sharp as a knife, and there’ll be blood, but Jensen could care less as he slams into Justin again and again, hand working as Justin comes all over both their stomachs, crying out into Jensen’s mouth.

Justin’s body seizes as he comes, muscles fluttering, squeezing Jensen’s dick. Jensen hisses, drives deep one last time and shudders, yanking Justin’s head back as he spills, hot and slick and so fucking _hard_. Jensen buries his teeth in the line of Justin’s jaw, Justin’s mouth open and gasping for air, both of them shivering, quivering, hips jerking, rocking in and out of time as they ride it out.

Justin’s gorgeous as he comes down, cheeks flushing, eyes closed as he tries to catch his breath, hands all over Jensen’s body.

Jensen runs a trembling fingertip along the curve of Justin’s jaw. “Why...” Jensen’s voice is rough, catching in his throat. “Why did you kiss me last night?”

“Felt good out there… with you.”

“Yeah,” Jensen nods, smiling.

“Like old times.”

“Yeah,” Jensen whispers, smile curling deeper.

“I’ve missed that.”

“Me, too.”

“I kissed you… because… I want… I want the world to know, Jen. How you make me feel. How amazing you are.” Justin runs his fingers over Jensen’s face, tracing the outline of his lips, his cheek, his brow, skin thrilling under the light graze of fingertips. Justin pulls Jensen down into a slow, deep kiss, tongues circling, lazy, no rush, fingers curling in Jensen’s hair, stroking up the line of his back, Jensen’s arms wrapped tight around Justin’s back, one hand grasping the base of his neck, pulling him in closer, deeper.

They fall asleep like that; arms wrapped around each other as the sweat on their bodies cools, Jensen’s face pressed to Justin’s throat, Justin with a gentle hand cupping Jensen’s head, cheek turned into Jensen’s forehead.

*

They sleep through the day, jet-lagged and worn-out. Jensen wakes before Justin, plants a kiss on Justin’s forehead as he slips free.

Jensen is dressed, hair still wet from the shower when he opens the bathroom door.

The second the voices beyond the bunks hit his ears, he tenses—knows he’s not going to like whatever he’s about to walk in on. He glances at his bunk, hoping to still see Justin there, but there’s nothing but empty, twisted sheets, lines of moonlight cutting across the mattress through the mini-blinds.

Okay, then. Nothing to do but face it.

He doesn’t even make it two steps into the kitchen before Mike spots him through the space between the cabinets and the counter.

“All people are talking about is your onstage kiss,” Mike sighs, rubbing a hand against the bald skin of his head.

Fuck. Jensen… _really_ doesn’t wanna have to deal with this. Not after last night. It had been _good_. Why can’t anything ever just be good?

“So let ‘em fucking _talk_ , Mike,” Chad is saying, shrugging against the seat. “They have been for years, anyway.”

Jensen walks to the seating area, sees Justin standing there at the edge of the kitchen, face pinched, arms folded over his chest.

“They’ve never had it confirmed before,” Mike’s got both hands pressed against his face, shoving his chin hard against his palms. “You know how hard I struggle to keep the balance between the people who want to think they’re hetero and the ones who want to think they’re together. A move in either direction…” Mike shakes his head.

“You okay?” Jensen whispers so no one else can hear, mouth ghosting across Justin’s. Justin makes a face, then nods, and Jensen slides onto the edge of the bench seat, close to Justin as he can be.

“Camera angle I saw on Youtube,” Chad’s going on, “they can barely fucking tell, anyway. It’s still mostly speculation.”

“Not even front page news since _Fall Out Boy_ hit the scene,” Sandy chimes in.

“Do you understand what a mess this is?” Mike asks, voice rising.

“Didn’t we do enough damage control?” Jensen demands.

“Yeah. You charmed the VJ right the hell over it. It’s the _rest_ of the world that’s the problem.” Mike leans forward, well and truly pissed. “I told you what would happen if you did this.”

Jensen feels his anger rise another notch, veins flushing hot. He folds his lips together, makes himself breath before he speaks, still can’t keep the edge from his words. “So it’s the end of the world, then? The seventh seal is actually Justin Hartley and Jensen Ackles barely sharing a kiss in the public eye?”

Mike cuts him a nasty look.

“I better call the four horsemen,” Jensen says, starting to sit up.

“So maybe we should just tell them the truth,” Chad says.

Everyone just stops, looking at him.

Jensen trades a glance with Justin. Jensen lifts his brows at Justin in silent question, and Justin gives a slow nod. This is their chance. Justin’s with him, and there’s nothing that feels better than that. The words Justin said to him last night… he wants the world to know. This is the perfect opportunity. But Jensen still feels anger flooding close to the edge, because he already knows exactly what Mike’s reaction is going to be. 

“Why not?” Chad shrugs, unaffected as he drags on his cigarette. “It’s been going on for nine years, Mike. Maybe it’s time they stopped hiding.”

“And lose all of our hetero fans?”

“Okay,” Chad laughs, sitting up suddenly as he brings his hands together in a loud clap, rubbing them against each other. “Do you even _read_ the fanfiction online? The message boards? Because a good chunk of our fans are female, hetero, and they already _know_ they’re together. _Think_ they are, anyway. _Want_ them to be.”

“They’re not the majority of the fans,” Mike says.

“Besides,” Chad goes on, exhaling smoke as he taps his cigarette into the ash tray. “Maybe we should just get it out of the way. Make a headline or two, let everything settle back down.”

“You really think that would _settle down_?” Mike looks angrier than Jensen’s seen him in a long time. “Do you know how many _men_ are fans? Tell them the male lead singer and the male guitarist have been fucking like rabbits since they were in high school and those fans are gonna drop us in a heartbeat.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Chad says, lifting his chin and blowing out a smoke ring. “Eight years of the ‘will they or won’t they’, ‘are they or aren’t they’, ballad-of-Justin-and-Jensen love story. How long can we drag that out?”

“Technically?” Sandy asks, lighting a cigarette of her own. “Forever.” She shrugs, thinking. “It could hurt us… then again, it could get us even more publicity. I don’t think it’s really our decision, anyway,” she says, looking at Jensen.

“Well,” Mike says, all resigned sarcasm as he spreads his hands. “Jensen? Justin? You gonna weigh in?”

Jensen is _so_ angry. “Why?” Jensen asks, raising his brows as he leans forward in the seat. He puts his elbows to his knees and looks at Mike over the lace of his fingers locked beneath his chin, eyes steady. “It’s been eight years, Mike. Seven, you’ve been with us. You really wanna go public _now_? Lose all that fortune? That fame?” Jensen asks, smirking, knowing. “I mean, the hell with what me and Justin want. We gotta make money, right?” he asks, voice dripping sarcasm as he spreads his hands apart. 

“You’re not helping,” Mike mutters.

“Sorry,” Jensen raises his brows again in mock-apology. “Was I supposed to?” He shakes his head, corner of his mouth curling wickedly. “Must have missed the press release on that one.”

“Jensen—“

“No, wait.” Jensen turns, motioning at Justin in rapt invitation. “Come on, Justin. You got anything to say? Mike wants to know,” Jensen adds, with a flourish, twirling one hand through the air to present Mike like Justin might not have known Mike was there before.

“I’ve never been embarrassed to be with you,” Justin says, looking Jensen right in the eye. He shakes his head once, jaw tightening. “Not ever.”

“Well,” Jensen says, turning to look at Mike in mock-surprise. “What a shocking turn of events. Are you shocked, Mike? ‘Cause **I** am. I mean…” Jensen shrugs, wide-eyed. “Who _knew_ , right?” His voice is so sarcastic that it’s turned inside out and come back through into the realm of believability, like some kind of zen. 

“Are you done?” Mike asks in an angry, strained undertone.

“I don’t know—Justin, are we done?” Jensen turns, motioning at Justin like he’s really not sure, and yeah, this is sarcasm so venomous Jensen can feel it burn in his veins like poison. It’s above and beyond the call of duty, but the occasion seems to warrant it.

Justin meets Jensen’s eyes, his mouth a firm line. He’s just about to draw breath to say something else when Mike interrupts.

“Justy… come on. You really wanna risk it all? We’re _here_. At the top. Do you really wanna throw it all away?”

“I thought _we_ had the floor,” Jensen comments, eyes thinning against Mike’s face, the tone of his voice.

“Come on, Mike,” Justin snaps, and for a second, Jensen’s heart soars. “You really think it could hurt us now? After all this time?”

“I don’t know, Justin,” Mike sighs, folding his hands together, the picture of exhaustion and caring. “But I’m pretty sure it would. You wanna find out the hard way? You wanna lose everything we’ve worked so hard for?”

Justin stands, angry, torn and indecisive. Jensen _knows_ what Justin wants to say; Jensen stares at him, willing him the strength to say what Jensen knows he feels.

Justin finally leans back against the wall, sighs. “What if… what if he’s right, Jen?”

No. That’s _not_ what Justin is supposed to say. Last night… everything—

“Jen,” Mike says, voice calm and reasonable. “We all agreed when the band started getting big that we’d keep you and Justin’s relationship under wraps. Not because either one of you was embarrassed, but because it was an unnecessary risk. I don’t understand why you’re so angry.”

Mike’s right, of course. They’d all agreed, back in the day. Hadn’t seemed like a big deal then. But it’s worn on all of them over the years. And after being back in Poughkeepsie, being onstage with Justin like _that_ again, all the years falling away… Justin kissing him, wanting the world to know…

“Justin,” Jensen says quietly. “If we didn’t have to hide…” 

_maybe things would be better._

He doesn’t finish the sentence out loud, knows he doesn’t have to; sees the understanding in Justin’s eyes. 

But… Justin’s still just looking at him, wistful and undecided.

“It’s bound to change things for the worse,” Mike says. “You really want your relationship in the public eye? People speculating? Faces plastered all over the tabloids? Not to mention the backlash from angry fans all over the internet who’ll feel like you lied to them all this time.”

Jensen hadn’t even considered that aspect of things. From the look on Justin’s face, neither had he.

“God dammit, Mike,” Jensen breathes. Jensen doesn’t give a damn; he knows he could handle it. But he also knows that Justin’s gotten so fragile over the years that he can barely stand it when he gets a semi-negative performance review. 

“Are you really ready for that, Justin?” Mike asks.

“We can face it together,” Jensen whispers, looking at Justin, pleading. Together, he knows they could do it. “We’ve always been able to do anything together.”

Jensen knows he’s lost the battle long before Justin finally shakes his head, apology in his eyes as he looks at Jensen.

It feels like betrayal.

Last night… he’d felt like they were so _together_ , so alive again. Justin had said… he’d _said_ he wanted the world to know… and now… now it’s right back to the same old shit.

Jensen’s whole body clenches, jaw seizing tight, lips pursing, eyes squinting as he nods through the haze of his anger. He sits there, not knowing how to move, what to do with his hands, shifting quickly from position to position—hands twining together, clutching against his knees, balling into fists—until finally he throws his body up from the seat and stalks to the front of the bus.

Maybe it’s not fair. Maybe it’s completely irrational for him to be so angry. But _God_ , it’ s been _years_. So much pent up anger, hopes smashed, _again_.

“Jeff,” he says, calmly as he can. “Stop the bus. Now.”

Jeff turns, takes one look at him and hits the brakes. They pull to the side of the highway, and by the time they’ve stopped, Mike’s caught up with him.

“Jen…” Mike’s hand on his shoulder, meant to be comforting, soothing.

Jensen stops on the edge of the stairs, whole body tensing, hand tightening on the rail so hard he feels like it might snap under his strength. “Get. The fuck. Off me. _Now_.”

“Think you’d best do as the boy says,” Jeff drawls to Mike.

Mike’s hand leaves his shoulder, and the bus door opens. Jensen walks down the steps into the Oklahoma night time.

“Jen—you can’t just wander the streets, it’s—“

The bus door slams closed, cutting off any further conversation. 

The last thing he sees before he disappears off the highway ravine into the woods is Mike arguing with Jeff, Mike’s hand pounding against the glass of the bus door.

*

He can’t see far, so he doesn’t go far; just down into the shelter of the trees where the night fog is beginning to pool, clinging and cool across his skin. He sits on the shadowy bulk of a huge fallen log, rubs his hands across his face, mist coiling heavy in his lungs as he breathes deep.

Okay… Okay. He needs… he needs to work out what he’s so pissed about before he fucking demolishes something—most likely his hand against a tree, which is _really_ tempting, except that he _really_ needs his hands in working order. He almost hopes someone will chase him so he can hit said someone’s face--which will still hurt his hand some, but would be one _hell_ of a lot more satisfying than breaking his knuckles against a tree. 

Unfortunately, no one comes after him, and he’s left trying to catch his breath, catch hold of his thoughts.

Justin… Justin abandoned him. Justin lifted him up, then abandoned him _again_. How is he _supposed_ to feel?

Maybe it wasn’t even fair for him to _hope_. He knows how much Justin’s changed… but hope is all he’s had for so long. It’s all he’s got to hold on to, and it ends up hurting every single _time_ … but if he ever loses _that_ …

Then what?

He can’t go back to the tour bus. Not tonight. He needs… needs to go somewhere else.

He chuckles out a bitter laugh, grabs his hair in his hands and shakes his head. Where else has he got to go? This is his _life_.

Jared appears through the fog, tall body silhouetted by the moonlight and the string of orange parking lights from the highway. Fuck. He’s possibly the _only_ one Jensen _doesn’t_ want to hit.

He pushes through the overgrown vines and branches, ducking as he comes close to Jensen.

“Nice,” Jared comments, plopping down on the log next to Jensen, bark vibrating underneath them. “And wet,” he notes.

“What are you doing here?” Jensen asks, not able to look Jared full in the face.

Jared shrugs. “Unscheduled stop… I called Chad to see what was up. He said some band stuff was going down, mentioned you might want someone to talk to. Jeff’s holding them all hostage while you take a few minutes. So… if you wanna talk, I’m here.” 

Jensen doesn’t want to talk. Jared’s silent, a steady presence at his side, and the longer Jared sits, patient and saying nothing, the more Jensen feels his anger drain away. The mist rises, wafting around their feet, and Jensen presses his hands to his face, leaning into the pressure of his palms.

“It’s just…” Jensen says after a few minutes. “I always think… maybe things are going to change.” He sighs out a breath, hands holding his cheeks. “But they never do.”

Jared looks at him with an expression so mournful it makes Jensen want to comfort _him_. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

That’s it. No useless reassurances, no ridiculous platitudes, no well-meant offers of hope. Jensen nods, doesn’t know what to say now, but he knows Jared’s not expecting him to say anything. It’s… it’s a relief, no one expecting anything from him for a whole ten minutes.

They sit there for a while longer; moonlight streaming through patches in the trees, making strange shapes and patterns over their skin. Tree branches scrape softly, leaves rusting in the light breeze, the crackle of a twig here and there in the distance. It’s so pretty, so peaceful; blessedly quiet. Jensen knows his phone is going to ring any minute now, Jeff or Mike telling him they need to get back on the road. He really doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He wants the silence shattered even less.

“I could leave my phone here,” Jensen says, contemplative. “Wander off into the woods… go some place in the world people don’t even know how to pronounce, much less find.”

“You could,” Jared murmurs in soft agreement.

But Jensen won’t, and they both know it. Because he’s that guy; the one who stays until the bitter end. 

Jensen’s silent for another moment, gives himself just another minute to enjoy the silence, the fantasy of freedom.

“Hey, Jared.”

“Yeah?” Jared turns to look at him.

“Thanks.” Before he can think, Jensen leans across the space between them, lips brushing the corner of Jared’s mouth. It’s a gesture of pure affection, gratefulness for Jared’s presence. There’s nothing sexual about it.

He doesn’t give Jared a chance to respond; gets up and walks through the woods, mist scattering in a whirlpool pattern around his feet before he steps into the grass. He takes in the sight of the tour bus and pulls out his phone with a tired sigh. 

“Jeff? I’m coming back. I don’t wanna talk to anybody, though. I just… wanna go to sleep.”

“I’ll see to it, Jen.”

*

Jensen lies in his bunk for a long time without sleeping, scattered bits of uncomfortable conversation between the others drifting to him occasionally. Finally, he opens the drawer under his bed, reaches for the ear plugs he almost never uses and fits them into his ears. It’s silent again, then, rhythm of the bus only humming through his body. He turns over on his side, head pushing into one pillow and wraps his arms around the other, pulling it close to his stomach. He thinks of Jared, the kiss he’d left him with. 

Jensen falls asleep, an image of the woods in the moonlight guiding him down.

*

In Oklahoma City they stop for breakfast at a diner, and after, Mike turns them loose on the city to blow off some steam. Jensen spends the afternoon alone, big, dark sunglasses covering his eyes, and nobody pays much attention to him as he wanders through the city. It feels good to be out from under security for a while, just wandering in and out of shops, and it occurs to Jensen that Mike’s a pretty fucking smart guy. This is exactly what Jensen needed.

About mid-afternoon, he heads down into Bricktown. It’s beautiful; brick buildings everywhere, as advertised, huge gorgeous fountains and bridges. He wishes he could be here tonight when it’s all lit up and all the clubs are in full swing. He hears music in the distance and follows the sound to a club where the door is open to the spring breeze, jazz drifting out into the warm air. There’s definitely a live band playing, and he steps in off the street. It’s a classy place, gleaming wood and low lights, tables covered in white cloth, people clustered around them in small groups. It’s low-key and relaxing, and Jensen likes the place immediately, feels comfortable. He grabs a seat at the bar and orders a beer, feet tapping along to the music. 

He’s been there about ten minutes when he spots a tall guy rising from one of the tables, broad shouldered with longish hair. Jensen’s two seconds into checking him out before he recognizes Jared. Jensen takes a moment to appreciate the way he moves, easy grace, long limbs swinging, hand tucking his hair behind one ear as he threads through the tables. God, he’s hot. Jared’s heading for the bar and Jensen lifts a hand, waving. Jared waves back, and then his face lights up as he recognizes Jensen, breaking into that broad smile.

“Hey,” he says, walking up. “Enjoying the afternoon off?”

“Yeah. I really am.”

“You here by yourself?”

“Yeah. You?”

“I was here with Tom and Jamie and Nick for lunch, but they’re getting ready to bag. I was gonna grab a seat at the bar and stay for the rest of the show.”

“Yeah. They’re pretty good. Heard them from the street and had to stop in.”

“You like jazz?”

“Love it. Don’t get to hear enough of it live, though. I can’t get Justin to sit still for five minutes before he’s bored and wants to go.”

“That’s a shame,” Jared nods, tipping back his bottle. “Jazz, it’s just got such a… _feeling_ to it that’s not like anything else. It’s a whole different kind of emotion.”

“Yeah,” Jensen agrees, pleasantly surprised. “Hey, you want another beer?”

Jared pulls up a stool and Jensen orders them both another round. They spend the next hour enjoying the band and talking about Duke Ellington and Earl Hines and the evolution of jazz, which leads to a discussion of blues and Muddy Waters and Robert Johnson, which eventually leads to a discussion about rock n’ roll and Jensen’s having such a good time he completely forgets about everything else for a while. The band finishes their set and packs up and Jared and Jensen linger at the bar, sipping beer and trading favorite bands. They get into a huge discussion about Van Halen—which they both love—and how the band changed after Hagar.

“Way I look at it,” Jared says, “Roth had the biggest influence on the band, because they changed a _lot_ after he left. Roth had to be directing, because once he left, their entire message changed. Not just sex drugs and rock n’ roll and fun music; more about love and the world.”

Jensen nods and grudgingly admits that much as he loved Eddie’s guitar work during the David Lee days, he really did kind of love Van Hagar. Jared nods and laughs.

“Yeah, for sure. Still, nothing beats like, Eruption for sheer Eddie guitar genius.”

“Oh, man. The first time I heard that, I was seven. I’ll never forget it. It changed the way I played guitar forever.”

And _that_ leads to talking about Yngwie Malmstein, and eventually to Hendrix. They’re still talking as they head back to meet everyone, sun sinking against the sky. The sight of the tour bus sobers Jensen, and he sighs.

“Guess we gotta go do our thing.”

“Yeah. I had… a really good time.” Jared says, smiling bright.

Yeah. So good that Jensen wishes it wasn’t over yet. “Me, too.”

“See you after the show, Jensen,” Jared says, still smiling he turns and heads to one of the other buses.

*

The show feels more ‘on’ tonight than Jensen would’ve expected. The afternoon off really did do them all some good.

Jensen pretty much avoids going near Justin at all, and Justin does the same. Jensen ends up playing back to back with Sandy during the solo to _As Far as I Know_ , and they’re both grinning, singing at each other without a mic, bodies moving in rhythm, swinging back and forth in time as their fingers move. 

It’s great—until they get to the last song. Damn. He’d forgotten this was on the list for tonight. It’s already hitting too close to home, and then Justin starts singing.

_If shame had a face I think it would kind of look like mine  
If it had a home would it be my eyes  
Would you believe me if I said I'm tired of this  
Well here we go now one more time”_

Bad fucking choice of songs. 

_“'Cause I try to climb your steps  
I try to chase you down  
I try to see how low I can get down to the ground  
I try to earn my way  
I try to tame this mind  
You better believe that I am trying to beat this”_

Jensen’s fingers are moving on their way through the notes, but his mind’s still stuck on the words. 

_“So when will this end  
It goes on and on  
Over and over and over again  
Keep spinning around I know that it won't stop  
Till I step down from this for good._

_I never thought I'd end up here  
Never thought I'd be standing where I am  
I guess I kind of thought that it would be easier than this  
I guess I was wrong now one more time.”_

There’s a reason Jensen wrote this song, and it’s too much like last night, like the last few years of his life for him to want to think about it. God dammit. He had a good day, managed not to think about any of it, and here it is getting shoved back in his face and he’s… so _tired_ of it.

_“So when will this end  
It goes on and on  
Over and over and over again  
Keep spinning around I know that it won't stop  
Till I step down from this_

_Sick cycle carousel, this is a sick cycle, yeah  
Sick cycle carousel  
This is a sick cycle yeah”_

Jensen hits the notes harder, fingers catching against the strings, and shoves away the feeling. 

They finish out the song, Justin wailing out the repetition of _Sick cycle carousel_ again and again as Jensen winds down, finishes the last few notes with Justin’s voice still hanging in the air.

Jensen walks offstage before the spotlight hits him, shrugging out of his guitar strap and handing it off to security the second he gets through the stage door.

Fuck it. He doesn’t feel like wallowing tonight. He had a good day and he just wants it to go on, like that last song never happened.

He gets to the VIP room before the rest of the band, gets himself a drink from the bar and downs it, has the bartender make him another before he settles on the couch near the edge of the room.

The room fills up, and Jensen keeps to himself, nursing his drinks slowly. Chad’s by the bar, throwing back shot after shot, and Justin’s in the corner with a cute brunette girl, their faces so close together they might as well already be kissing. The kissing’s coming soon, Jensen can tell by the way Justin’s standing, one arm braced against the wall over her shoulder, leaning in with that seductive look. 

There’s an art to Justin, beyond his beauty. He’s still got that certain _something_ \--that charm and personality that can’t help but show through. It’s paler now though, harder to see. Jensen doesn’t get to see that Justin anymore nearly as much as he’d like to.

He really doesn’t want to think about Justin tonight. He looks away, back to the bar. Sandy’s near the end of the bar, sipping from a glass and talking to some really cute guy. Chad’s still at the center of it all, doing shots, and he’s… Jensen sits up on the couch, leaning forward as he spots Jared talking to Chad.

He’s never seen them together before. They’re laughing and talking, hands clapping each other on the shoulder, doing shots together. They’re obviously close friends, relaxed and at ease, and it makes Jensen smile to see it. 

Jensen gets up from the couch and walks over to them, smiling as he catches Chad’s eye. “Make room in that bottle for one more?”

“Get over here, Jenny,” Chad grins, looping an arm around Jensen’s shoulders and pulling him in.

“Hey, Jensen,” Jared says, smiling. He’s so beautiful, the glint of light in his hazel eyes, sparkling with happiness, pink mouth stretching wide over perfect white teeth, and he just… _glows_.

“Hey, Jared,” Jensen answers, grinning back.

“Uh huh,” Chad nods. “So you two have met, then?” 

Jared laughs and Jensen chuckles. “Gimme that shot, would you?”

They throw back a couple of shots and talk about the show for a while before a petite girl in a slinky black dress brushes by them. Chad stops talking in mid-sentence as he watches her go by, and then he hands his shot glass off to Jensen.

“If I’m not back in a couple of hours… don’t come looking for me,” he calls, disappearing into the crowd.

Jared shakes his head, smiling, and Jensen pours them another shot. They clink glasses and do their shots, and Jensen sets his glass on the bar, leans sideways against it with one elbow. His stomach is warm and he’s buzzing nicely off the alcohol, and Jared is _so_ pretty. They have another shot or two, and Jensen’s interested in their conversation, he really, really is, but he can’t keep himself from watching Jared’s mouth move until Jared finally notices.

“Is there something…” he asks, raising a hand towards his mouth. 

“Yeah,” Jensen says, lifting up. “It’s that all I can think about right now…” he whispers, leaning in, “is doing this.” Their mouths meet with a warm glide, and Jensen puts his hands on Jared’s face, tongue sliding between Jared’s lips. Jared tastes like whiskey and Jensen sucks the taste greedily from Jared’s tongue, Jared moaning low into Jensen’s mouth, fingers grasping Jensen around the waist. Their tongues swirl, gliding and teasing, Jensen tugging Jared in deeper. He licks his way back out slowly, tonguing along the ridge of Jared’s teeth, thumb pressing into Jared’s cheek.

“Feel better now?” Jared asks, breathless.

“Not nearly good enough,” Jensen answers, mouths still close together as he tilts his head back a little to look up at Jared. He brushes his fingertips over Jared’s hand on his waist, wraps his fingers around Jared’s wrist. Jensen’s flirting hardcore, and he’s enjoying the hell out of it. 

“My fucking God, Jensen,” Jared breathes, like he can’t believe it. “You are _so_ hot.”

“You wanna blow this party?” Jensen asks, mouth edging closer.

“Rather blow you,” Jared answers, hunger in his voice.

“Mmm,” Jensen hums in approval, lower lip dragging against Jared’s, then up the line of Jared’s jaw. He lets his lips graze Jared’s ear, whispers out hot, “You wanna suck my cock, Jared?”

“Fuck yes.” Jared’s lips are warm, so close against Jensen’s ear.

Jensen’s fingers tighten around Jared’s wrist and he spins out of Jared’s grip, pulling Jared behind him.

It’s a little bit of a risk being this public, but, fuck it. He’s tired of hiding shit.

There’s a room right down the hall, and Jensen leads Jared to the door, pushes him against it and kisses him hard while he shoves the card into the key slot. Jensen turns the knob and they stumble through the doorway, laughing into each other’s mouths. It’s dark, and Jensen has to pull away long enough to find the light switch. It’s not a big room, just some storage for extra equipment stacked against the walls, some old art deco couches past their prime and waiting to be reupholstered. 

Jared takes a quick look around and then grabs Jensen by his belt loops, pushes him against the wall. Jensen hits it with a dull thud, hands running over Jared’s body as Jared kisses him. Jensen’s not used to not leading, shoving back into the kiss, tongues twisting, fingers locking into the groove of Jared’s hips, thumbs pushing into the crease just below the line of Jared’s jeans. Jared moans, rocks into him, cocks sliding against each other through their pants, sweet catch and drag. And then Jared lets his mouth slide, trailing down Jensen’s throat, tongue painting a line along his pulse. Jensen tilts his head back, sucks in a quick breath. Fuck, it’s like magic, the patterns Jared’s tracing over his skin, swirling out along the edge of Jensen’s collarbone. Biting, sucking, licking, thumbs circling Jensen’s nipples through his t-shirt.

Jensen’s phone rings and he reaches into his pocket, yanks it out and drops it on the floor. Jared’s hand skims his belly as he pulls Jensen’s shirt up, mouth sliding slick out to Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen shivers, fingers flexing against Jared’s spine. God, he feels so fucking good, muscles moving under skin, mouth and tongue tracing out the hollow of Jensen’s throat, dipping and circling in the center. Jensen’s not sure how he forgot he had this many nerve endings, each one tingling, standing on end, pulsing with pleasure as Jared’s mouth moves over him, blood flushing hot in his veins.

Jared doesn’t pause as he works Jensen’s shirt up above his chest, dips his head lower, mouth closing hot around one of Jensen’s nipples. Jensen shudders, grabs his own shirt and yanks it over his head while Jared licks across, teeth grazing his other nipple. The sensation sends a jolt through him and he jumps, hand closing over the back of Jared’s head, pulling him in. Jared groans, eager, and Jensen arches into the vibration, the suction, hissing out a breath.

Jared licks lower, through the trail between Jensen’s stomach muscles, hazel eyes flicking up to meet Jensen’s as he tongues under the waistline of Jensen’s leather pants.

“Fuck. So fucking hot in leather.” Jared’s voice is a shaky whisper, thumbs hooking in the crease of Jensen’s thighs, so close to where Jensen wants him, hands fanning out across the breadth of Jensen’s hips. He licks up the center of Jensen’s cock, tip of his pink tongue dragging a slick trail to the tip, tonguing under the head. 

Jesus _fuck_ , it’s good, Jared’s tongue outlining him through the barrier of leather, and Jensen lets go of him, reaches for the button, popping it open. Jared licks over the exposed skin, tongue swirling against the skin behind Jensen’s hands as he unzips his pants, following him down. Jared’s nuzzling, turning his cheek against Jensen’s body, mouth sliding hot over sensitive skin. Jensen reaches inside, wraps his fingers around his cock, aching hard, tip pearly with precome. He gasps at the feeling of his own hand and tugs himself free, length of him springing out, flushed full and exposed, fingers sliding into Jared’s hair.

“God, Jensen.” Words breathed out, hot and thick against the head of his cock and he shudders, shoving blindly with his hips.

Jared meets him, lips closing around the head, tonguing the slit before he slides lower. Mouth locked tight and wet around Jensen, tongue working the vein on the underside as he slides to the base, hands locked around Jensen’s hips. God, he’s so hot, staring up at Jensen through his bangs, so blatant, so _wanting_ this.

Up and down, slow slide and twist of Jared’s head until Jensen grabs him, fingers of one hand sunk deep into Jared’s shoulder, other wrapped in the sleek, sweaty length of his hair. Jensen rocks his hips, head tilted back against the wall. Fuck, it’s so good, he’s so close, and he can’t be this close, not yet. 

“You…” he gasps, shuddering thrust and pull between Jared’s lips, “want me…” deep breath, driving even deeper inside, Jared humming around him. “To fuck you…” Jared’s mouth, shamelessly suckling the head of his cock as he yanks back, “Or not?” he manages, fingers gripping Jared tight as he thrusts deep and fast to the back of Jared’s throat, yanks back just as fast, quick as lightning as he pulls free, fingers stroking around Jared’s head, the line of his jaw, grabbing his chin as Jensen looks down at him.

Jared’s lips are wet, shiny with spit and precome, and all he looks like is greedy, dying to get Jensen’s cock back in his mouth.

“God, how are you so hot?” Jensen breathes, demanding as he pushes Jared’s face up to look at him.

Jared’s tongue flashes out over his lips, licking up the taste of Jensen. “How are _you_?” Jared demands in return, staring right back.

There are couches, but Jensen doesn’t care. There isn’t time for that. He goes to his knees, pushes Jared towards the floor and catches him, one arm wrapping around Jared’s body as they fall together. They still hit the floor with a slight impact, and it only seems to turn Jared on even more, body arching up into Jensen, mouth reaching up to claim his, arms and legs closing around his body and pulling him in tight. Jensen’s phone rings again and he shuts out the sound.

They move, rocking together in sinuous rhythm, slow, mouths tangled and whispering out heated words until Jensen can’t stand it anymore, needs to feel Jared against him skin to skin. Jensen peels out of his pants, only using his hands long enough to get them to his knees and then he kicks the rest of the way out, hands instantly back all over Jared’s body, tugging at his clothes, stripping him. The feel of his naked body under Jensen’s is electric, and Jensen groans, thrusting his hips, cocks sliding bare, dragging against each other. They both moan, mouths melting together, Jensen’s hands sliding down under Jared’s body, gripping the round, hard curve of his ass.

“You feel _so_ motherfucking _good_ ,” Jensen gasps. “Just wanna rub off against your skin, come all over you.” 

Jared throws his head back, arches, thrusting against Jensen. “God. Fuck, Jensen. So hot.”

“You like that?” Jensen whispers out, ragged. He’s smiling, tonguing under the point of Jared’s chin as he grinds his hips down against Jared. “Make you hot, thinking about me coming all over you?” He lifts his head, staring down into Jared’s eyes.

“Everything you do…” Jared bites Jensen’s lower lip, tongue flicking against the underside as he pulls away. “Makes me hot,” Jared breathes. “Everything you say…” his mouth is sweet, kissing Jensen, “the way you feel…” Biting, licking, sucking, hands pulling at Jensen desperately. “Makes me so fucking crazy.” 

“Every single…” Jared grabs him, clutching, grinding, “thing…” yanking him closer, “about you.” 

Fucking. _Christ_. He’s so incredible… Jensen doesn’t even have _words_.

“You’re killing me,” Jensen whispers, turning his face against Jared’s neck, teeth grazing the skin.

“Fuck me, Jensen. Please.” Jared’s writhing underneath him, turning his head, eyes shameless as he begs. “Now.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it.” Jared is all heat and want, staring into him. “Don’t need any prep. Want it. God…” His head slants back, neck rising, pulling Jensen’s face in against him. “Want you.”

It’s… this… this is…Jared is…

Jensen grasps for thought, clings to the last words Jared said, because they’re all he knows how to answer right now.

He doesn’t have any idea where his pants are, but he can see Jared’s; reaches for them, fingers digging into the pocket, pulling out what he knows is there.

He falls back down against Jared, kissing him while he rips open the condom package. He wonders for a moment if Jared ever thinks about him when he’s putting these in his pocket; if Jared ever thinks about Jensen fucking him when they’re not together.

Jensen tears himself away from Jared’s body long enough to sit up, roll the condom on and slick himself. He falls back down, cock head nudging between Jared spread thighs, and thinks about how he’s been wanting this since Phoenix—how he hasn’t _stopped_ wanting it ever since.

Jared lifts his hips, straining, rubbing against Jensen’s dick, and Jensen grabs him, holds him, pushing in steadily. Jared seals around him, hot and tight and so fucking perfect, one slow inch at a time, hips bucking under Jensen’s hands, wanting more.

“Hurry. God, hurry,” Jared whispers, mouth swollen from kissing, eyes burning Jensen up from the inside out.

Jensen buries himself with a final thrust, teeth sinking into the smooth, soft skin of Jared’s lower lip. He hisses out a breath, just feeling Jared clenched tight all around him, so hot inside. 

Jared’s body twists; choked sound shuddering from his chest, hips rising from the floor, taking Jensen even deeper. “Doesn’t… hurt,” he whispers, flexing around Jensen, nails digging into Jensen’s back, body squeezing Jensen’s cock. “Come on.”

Jensen drags out, mouth locked to Jared’s throat, feels Jared gasp, tighten all around him. He teases at the edge, crown pulling, pushing at the rim, and then shoving deep. Jared’s starting to sweat, taste of salt along his collar bone, sweet like sugar against Jensen’s tongue.

“I saw you.” Jensen whispers the words against Jared’s hot, slick skin, tongue trailing up to Jared’s ear before he draws back, kisses Jared’s mouth again. “That night in Phoenix. In the backstage bathroom.” 

Jared’s hands are shaking, lips parted and breathing hard, looking right at Jensen. “I know.”

“Wanted you then,” Jensen groans, thrusting hard with his hips, forehead falling against Jared’s. “Haven’t been able to get you out of my head, since,” Jensen breathes.

Jared’s pupils are blown wide, full of heat. He puts one trembling hand on Jensen’s face, lower lip dragging against Jensen’s. “I know the feeling,” Jared whispers. 

“Not just me, then.”

“No.” Jared shakes his head, lips hot against Jensen’s. “Not at _all_.”

Jensen kisses him again, grabs Jared tight. He rolls over, pulling Jared on top of him, and then his shoulders hit the floor, Jared’s weight solid, pressing into him. “Wanna watch you… see you ride me.”

Jared’s hands glide up his body, fingertips trailing, sending chills all through him. Jared’s palms pressing against his chest, Jared’s hips rocking, fucking him slow and deep, hips twisting like a snake. Fucking _Christ_. He’s so hot, plush lower lip caught between his teeth, the way his eyes roll up just a little with every thrust, long lashes fluttering, taking, tugging, pulling against Jensen’s cock. Sweating out, every muscle gleaming in the light, cut with shadow underneath, and fuck, he’s so _ripped_ , and he’s riding Jensen like he’s galloping on a horse and loving every second of it. Huge, hard cock rubbing against his belly, and even _that_ feels good, almost as good as Jared’s body clamped tight around him. Jensen grabs him by the hips, thumbs pressing deep into the hollow of the bone, tugging him down, deeper, closer.

“You…” Jensen declares. “Are so… motherfucking… _hot_.”

Jared leans forward, hips still rocking, sliding up and down the length of Jensen’s cock, mouth open, wet and slick and _wanting_ as he dives, kissing Jensen so deep and desperate that Jensen’s the one left breathless, Jared’s hips working hypnotic rhythm, taking him with thrust after thrust, moaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt.

And then… and then… Jared sits up, mouth pulling from Jensen’s with a groan, fingers leaving Jensen’s chest, rising into his own hair, tugging at the long strands, body rocking, riding Jensen with ragged twists of his hips, lower lip caught between his teeth, eyes so slitted Jensen can barely see the whites. He’s _so_ fucking _beautiful_. So _into_ it. Christ. 

Jared yanks one hand from his hair, grabbing Jensen’s hip, nails biting, tearing skin, and Jensen hisses, meets Jared’s downward thrust instinctively. His body is so gorgeous and he’s trying his hardest to fuck Jensen within an inch of his life, because _fuck_. Slamming, slapping rhythm of their bodies, ratcheting up and up, faster, harder, thrusting, twisting.

“Fuck. Jared. Fuck,” Jensen gasps, fingers tightening in Jared’s hips, trying desperately to hold him still. God, he’s going to come if Jared doesn’t stop, going to come so fucking amazingly, incredibly hard.

Jared’s hand slides slowly from his hair, trailing over his collarbone, down his chiseled chest, through the perfection of his abs, fingers closing around the length of his own cock. He jerks himself, once, twice, Jensen’s eyes devouring the sight, trying to ignore the hot pull and thrust of Jared’s body, because he wants to _see_.

“No,” Jared breathes, falling against him, mouth slick and sweet, tasting the swell of Jensen’s lower lip. “This time it’s _your_ turn.”

Jared flexes around him, squeezing, pulling, hips lifting, rolling into Jensen, mouth hot, tongue flicking, teasing.

His fingers clench against Jared so hard that he knows he’s going to leave bruises, but he doesn’t care, breathing out ragged heat into Jared’s mouth. Jared’s hand is stripping his own cock, and Jensen can feel the friction against his belly, Jared’s body twisting, writhing on the end of Jensen’s dick, pressed chest to chest, mouth melting into his.

Jensen runs his hands up Jared’s back; perfect muscles sheathed in sweat, dancing under his fingertips, spine flexing, hot fucking body grinding down against him. Jensen grabs him by the shoulders and _yanks_ him down, sinks deep and closes his teeth around Jared’s tongue, biting hard before he twists away, nails digging furrows into Jared’s skin.

He bites Jared’s shoulder, seizing the skin, Jared thrusting, moaning, loving it, body locked tight. Jensen comes into the sweet clench of him with a muffled shout, orgasm rising like an explosion, wracking his whole body with pleasure, pulse after pulse. His teeth slide from Jared’s shoulder, head falling back against the floor, eyes shut tight as he arches helplessly into the feel.

“So incredible, Jensen.”

He can feel Jared’s muscles _squeeze_ then flutter, milking Jensen’s cock as Jared spills hot and wet across his stomach, hand moving like a blur. His mouth seals over Jensen’s, tongues pushing desperately at each other as they ride it out, hips jerking and stuttering. Jared finally shudders and goes still, weight resting against Jensen, both of them breathing hard, bodies sweaty, sticky, tangled together. Jensen can feel Jared’s heart pounding behind his rib cage and he runs his hands up into Jared’s hair, stroking the long wet strands. Tugs his head back and kisses him again, slower now, faces angling, mouths opening, tongues gliding, sleek muscles circling, tasting. Jared puts his hands on Jensen’s face, palms gentle, laying flat, cupping his jaw between, sucks Jensen’s tongue into his mouth and releases, licking across Jensen’s lower lip before he dips inside again. Jensen lets his hands drift as they kiss, keeps touching him, hands running over Jared’s body, fingertips sliding slow over sweaty skin, palming against the muscles, flexing and _feeling_. 

“Love the way you feel,” Jensen breathes, tongue flashing out, painting the edge of Jared’s upper lip.

“Love the way you _feel_ me,” Jared whispers. “God…” he moans, arching into Jensen’s touch. “Your hands.”

Jensen’s phone rings for a third time and he really can’t ignore it any more. He sighs and grabs for it.

“Yeah, Mike.”

“Jen, been trying to get a hold of you. The guy… the one you left with, he’s one of our roadies.”

Great. Jensen is so not dealing with this right now. “I knew that. But thanks.”

“Jen—“

“Can we talk about this in the morning? I’m a little busy right now.”

“Oh,” Mike says, getting it. “I’ve got someone here that wants to talk to you. When will you..?”

“Not for a while. Bye, Mike.” He hangs up and sets the phone down.

“Everything okay?” Jared asks, lifting his head from Jensen’s chest.

“Mike… saw me with you, wanted to warn me that you were crew and I probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Is that gonna cause problems?”

“For him, maybe. Not for me and you.”

“You sure?”

“This is my decision, your decision, we’re both adults. Nothing he can do about it.”

“Why _are_ you doing this, Jensen? Not that I’m complaining,” he adds. “But you’ve got Justin.”

“I…” Jensen takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, honesty costing him. “I haven’t had Justin in a really long time.”

“You’re… not talking about sex?” Jared asks, in a way that’s almost not even a question.

“I’m not.”

“Jensen.” Jared’s voice is a whisper, fingertips stroking Jensen’s jaw line. “He loves you.”

Jensen sighs out a deep breath and opens his eyes. “I know.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“You don’t know?” It seems like Jared _should_ know.

“Dude,” Jared laughs, light and easy. “Nobody who’s not part of the band’s inner circle knows how long. But if I had to guess? Since before you signed your first record contract with Geffen.”

Jensen nods, slowly, swallows. “You’d be right. About six months before.”

“Nine years,” Jared nods, taking that in. “That’s amazing.”

Jensen breathes out in a quick, hard breath that isn’t quite a laugh. “I can’t remember the last time I thought so.” It feels so good to actually be able to _tell_ someone that.

“Nine years, you’re gonna have your ups and downs.”

“How long do the downs last?” Jensen asks, trying hard to breathe. “Because… there hasn’t been anything but ‘down’ for years now.”

Jared cups Jensen’s face in one hand. “As long as you want them to.”

It hits Jensen right in the gut, the way truth does, sometimes. Like the song earlier tonight. Whether you try to fix things and move to the “ups” again, or you give up and walk away—either way; it’s truth.

“I…” Jensen closes his eyes, bows his head. “Feel like I…don’t know what I want anymore.”

“Not a crime. Whole lot of people in the world who don’t know what they want. You’ll work it out.”

“I’m twenty-seven,” Jensen says, shaking his head. “Shouldn’t I know by now?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s not an age limit on that,” Jared chuckles.

“What about you?” 

Jared glances away, shrugs slowly. “I’m part of the other group, remember? The ones who want what they can’t have.”

“Anybody ever get to have what they want?” Jensen whispers. “And get to be happy?”

“It has to happen sometimes.” The way Jared looks at him when he says it, honest, full of belief. There’s something so genuine, so beautiful in him. 

“You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met.” The words leave Jensen’s mouth with something like wonder.

“Ditto,” Jared whispers.

Jared lowers his face, eyes sliding closed as he kisses Jensen, mouth slow and warm, breathing into him. Jensen rolls them both over, kissing Jared deep, tongues swirling, mouths moving, their hands mapping each other faces. When he finally pulls away, kissing out slow, he feels breathless, almost dizzy with it, head on fire and full of Jared.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Jared breathes out the word, sounding as shaken as Jensen feels. He’s so gorgeous, messy with sex, eyes warm, gazing up at Jensen, rapt. 

He’s not nearly drunk enough for things to feel _this_ intense. He needs to… something.

He pulls out slow, sits up on his knees and tries to catch his breath. He breaks their gaze, looking down at himself as he peels the condom off, then ties it off, sets it aside. He starts to reach for his shirt—

“Here, use mine.” Jared pushes his shirt into Jensen’s hands. “You need yours more.”

Jensen wipes them both clean, taking his time over the muscles of Jared’s stomach, fingers feeling him through the thin material of his t-shirt. He still feels like he’s high, but he can handle it now. He tosses the shirt aside and grabs Jared by the hips, rolls him over and spreads his legs. Dips the tip of his tongue inside Jared’s body, feels it slide in so _easy_ , Jared shivering, moaning all around him.

“God, so hot Jared. All fucked open from my cock.” He circles Jared’s rim with the point of his tongue, Jared trembling under him. 

“Fuck, Jensen.”

He teases Jared, fucking him with long, slow thrusts, tongue curling deep inside, swirling around the outside edge, hands cupping Jared’s ass, fingers curling, feeling the muscles, the skin. He moves his hands lower, thumbs pushing into the space behind Jared’s balls, spears Jared with his tongue and seals his lips around the rim, suckling as he keeps fucking him with hard thrusts. 

“My fucking God… _Jensen_.” Jared sounds like he’s strangling, body shivering, straining, and Jensen smiles, keeps going. Jared’s going crazy, bucking underneath him and spilling a stream of senseless words. He’s sweating again, pushing, shoving against Jensen’s mouth, grinding, begging. Jensen lessens the pace, releases the suction, tonguing Jared like they were kissing earlier, with slow curls of his tongue and twists of his head, until finally Jared’s hands are balled into fists, body shivering helplessly against the floor.

“Fuck me, Jensen.” The words are a whisper, voice so thick Jared sounds drugged. “God, please, need to feel you, need you to _touch_ me.”

Jensen pulls away, shakes his head, breathing out against Jared’s body. “Wanna feel you come with my tongue in your hot, fucked out ass.” Jensen shoves his tongue back inside of Jared’s body, and Jared gasps, crying out as Jensen slides his hand under Jared’s hip, fingers gripping his cock tight and stroking. Jared’s body arches, lifting, fucking himself back and forth between Jensen’s tongue and his hand, whole body quivering. 

“Jesus fucking _Christ_.” Jared comes, whole body coiling, clenching around Jensen’s tongue, and God _yes_ , hot muscles gripping Jensen like a vice, spilling all over Jensen’s fist, body thrashing, messy, sloppy rhythm. Jensen shoves his tongue deep, fluttering the tip, jerking Jared’s cock so hard and fast that the friction almost burns even through the slick on his palm. He keeps going, Jared twitching and moaning and writhing, relentless, until Jared’s spent, collapsing limp against the floor.

He licks at Jared one last time and sits up, turning him over so he can see him. He’s gloriously beautiful, shaken, fucked out mess and he looks like sex itself. Jensen rolls on another condom, runs his hand through the mess on Jared’s belly and slicks himself. 

“You okay?” Jensen asks, sliding up his body, lying down.

“Fuck if… I know,” Jared gasps, eyes wide and blissed out, panting like he’s dying.

“Mmmm,” Jensen hums, smiling, tonguing along the line of Jared’s throat. “That’s what I like to hear.” He thrusts inside of Jared without ceremony, and Jared whimpers, jumps like he’s been hit by lightning, aftershocks shaking through him.

“Sweet fucking Christ you’re going to kill me,” Jared whispers, kissing him hard and deep.

Jensen fucks him with hard steady strokes, fingers squeezing Jared’s shoulders, Jared clinging to him, hands moving everywhere all over Jensen’s body, their mouths locked together. Jensen can feel it again, that dizzy feeling sweeping all through him like slow fire, and his belly tightens suddenly, orgasm blindsiding him and seizing him with pleasure sharp as a razor blade. Jared keeps moving, riding him from the bottom, and he goes rigid, another wave hitting him, rising even higher and sharper, vision whiting out.

“My fucking _God_ ,” he breathes as he comes to, cheek pressed against the curve of Jared’s shoulder. He isn’t sure he knew it was possible to have sex that amazing without drugs. 

“Uh huh,” Jared groans in agreement.

They lay there for a while, breathing, kissing. When Jensen pulls away this time, he feels like he’s buzzing all over again. And like he needs a cigarette so badly he can taste it.

“You probably need to get back, huh?” Jared asks, fingers running lazy trails up and down Jensen’s back.

“Probably,” Jensen agrees. He really doesn’t want to, though. What he _wants_ is to stay right here, kiss Jared some more, maybe smoke that cigarette and lounge on the old couches with him, talking about life, music, whatever.

“Are you going back?” Jensen asks.

“After that? I think I’m gonna go smoke a joint and pass the hell out. Christ.”

“ _That_ , sounds like an awesome idea,” Jensen says, sighing regretfully.

“I’ll think about you the whole time, how about that?” Jared winks at him, and it’s damned cute.

“How sweet of you,” Jensen says, wry.

“Not like I couldn’t, anyway, after all that.” Jared shrugs, smirking and looking incredibly satisfied.

That… makes Jensen want to kiss him again, so he does.

When he steps out into the hallway a few minutes later, he has to stop for a second, take a deep breath and shake his head, because-- _damn_.

*

He goes back to the party and does the mingling thing for a while, and then proceeds to get completely stoned with Sandy and Katie. He feels groggy the next morning when he gets on the bus, but pretty good other than that—until Mike catches him outside the doorway to the bunks.

Why does everyone always have to fuck with his good times? 

“Yeah, I know,” Jensen says, stopping Mike before he can start. “Don’t worry. It’s not a problem.”

“If he decided to cause trouble…”

“He won’t.”

“Jen—“

“You trust me?”

“Yeah.” Mike nods. “I do. You and Sandy are pretty much the only people I _don’t_ have to worry about. Which is why I’m surprised.”

“Then trust me. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t trust _him_ not to cause problems. Besides, don’t you have more important things to worry about?”

Maybe it’s because of the argument the other night, maybe it’s because Mike really does trust him, but he can see the resignation in Mike’s expression as he sighs. He’s not going to fight Jensen on this. “Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he says, turning around. He hesitates in the kitchen, glancing back. “Just… be careful.”

Jensen nods and slides the door the rest of the way open.

Justin’s standing there, arms folded over his chest. Christ.

“Jared? Again?” he asks.

Jensen is instantly annoyed. “Christ,” he snaps. “Why is _everyone_ so fucking _interested_?”

Justin tilts his head to the side, unimpressed by Jensen’s annoyance. “Just wondering what’s so special that you keep going back to him.”

“Like you never fucked the same groupie fifteen times?”

“Not usually in a row. Is he really good or something? Maybe I should fuck him, too, find out for myself.”

Jensen feels reluctant, almost protective. He knows Justin, knows Justin would probably be a prick to Jared and Jared doesn’t deserve that. It’s not like they haven’t fucked the same guy before—together or at different times—and it would be crazy hot, seeing the two of them together. Justin’s gorgeous, and under normal circumstances, he’s pretty sure Jared wouldn’t say no, but with the situation the way it is… that would probably weird Jared out. Maybe to the point of making Jared go away. Jensen really doesn’t want that to happen. But he knows if he tries to discourage Justin at all, Justin will make it a _point_ to try. 

Jensen just shrugs. “If that’s what you want.”

The answer seems to satisfy Justin, and he shrugs, too, letting it go. “Guess I can’t blame him for wanting to fuck you all the time.” Justin steps closer, winds his arms around Jensen’s shoulders. “You _are_ the best, Jen.”

Justin kisses him, and Jensen kisses him back. It’s good… but all Jensen can think about is the way it had felt, kissing Jared last night.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

The Kansas City show is solid, and Jensen hits the after party with a sense of anticipation. He feels good, still giddy on the high of the crowd. Justin was on tonight, didn’t throw Jensen any curves, and Jensen spots him across the room, already making out with the hotass singer from the other band. Jensen shakes his head, smirking, walks to the bar and gets himself a drink.

He turns around, stirs his drink and leans his elbows back against the bar. 

“Jen,” Chad says, hip bumping into Jensen’s as he slides in next to him. Chad’s drink sloshes, spilling over the edge, cold liquid hitting Jensen’s leg.

“Thanks, man,” he says, looking down at his thigh.

“Like you can even feel that through the all the custom fitted leather.” 

“It’s more the hole that’s gonna be eating through it by tomorrow from whatever battery acid you’re drinking tonight.”

Chad laughs and grabs him in a headlock, yanking him so hard that Jensen spills half his own drink on himself. Jensen laughs back and gives in, leaning into Chad and sipping what’s left of his drink.

“So, how’d your night go last night?” Chad asks.

Jensen can’t keep from smiling, thinking about it, but he tilts his head back and forth like he’s weighing it. “Not too bad.”

Chad takes one look at him and smirks, shaking his head. “Uh huh.”

Jensen smiles to himself, glances away and takes a drink from his glass. “How’d you make out with Slinky Black Dress Girl?”

“Oh, man. It was awesome. Until we got to the part where we had sex. You ever just get there sometimes and the shit just… doesn’t work? Like… not _that_ shit, not _my_ shit—I was working fine—but like, the whole thing is just… off? Kind of… bad?

“Lack of chemistry?”

“Yeah.”

“Nope. Never. I’ve heard of it though,” Jensen grins.

“Fuck you,” Chad laughs, punching him in the shoulder. “That shit happens to everyone.”

“I wasn’t kidding.”

“Damn, man.” Chad leans back against the bar, frowning as he nods slow, considering that. “Maybe I ought to start fucking guys.”

Jensen chokes on his drink and Chad just looks at him, deadpan. “I’m serious.”

That just makes Jensen laugh even harder, and ah, fuck, alcohol burns when it goes through your nose. He wipes at his face and Chad finally relents, laughs with him. 

“Hey.” Jared’s smiling as he walks up, hot as fuck in his black tank top and jeans, muscles in his arms rippling as he flexes his hands in his pockets. “What’s so funny?”

“Jensen’s never had bad sex,” Chad informs him, inclining his head towards Jensen.

“Huh.” Jared nods, smiling, tongue curling against the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to keep from laughing. “You don’t say?”

Chad shakes his head and grabs the stirrer out of his drink, tossing it over his shoulder with comical drama. “Definitely gonna start fucking guys,” he says. “Or maybe I oughta just start fucking Jenny, here. Whaddaya say Jen? Got room on your dance card for one more?”

Jared laughs and pushes up next to Jensen, leaning across the bar to order a drink. His ass is sticking out as he leans, and Jensen’s got a nice view if he turns his head a little and looks down. _Really_ nice view.

“Nah.” Jensen shakes his head, still checking Jared out. “I’m all full.” He pauses and then looks over at Chad with a smirk. “Try Justin.”

Chad glances back and forth between Jensen and Jared. “Think he’s free?” It’s thrown out quick and casual, whimsical humor, but there’s an odd note to it.

Jensen’s way too conscious of Jared’s shoulder rubbing against his, the warmth of his hip against Jensen’s. “He’s all yours if you can catch him.”

Chad looks like he’s about to say something else, then he shrugs, rolls with it. “Nah,” he sighs in mock-disappointment. “If I can’t have the Jensenator I’m sticking with the chicks.”

Jared pulls back from the bar, drink in hand as he steps in front of them. “So what was the consensus?”

Jensen inclines his head towards Chad. “Chad decided not to start fucking guys after all.”

“Oh.” He pauses, setting his drink on the bar next to Jensen, then looks at Chad. “So I should give up that lifelong fantasy where you sweep me off my feet and take me away from all this? Come on, Chad,” Jared pleads, falling on his knees in front of Chad, his face pleading as he holds his arms open. “Don’t break my heart, baby. I’ll make it worth your while. Come to the dark side.” He blinks up at Chad with eyes so wide they look like blank, puppy dog cartoon eyes. “You can top,” Jared offers, blinking rapidly.

Chad reaches into his drink—casually, oh so very casually--and tosses an ice cube at Jared. Jared ducks it, laughing as he tackles Chad’s legs. Chad overbalances, drunk as he is, and pitches forward over Jared, hitting the floor with a thump. 

Jared feigns comical shock, and then he throws his arms up, looking at the sky, crying out, “Nooooo! Take me instead!” in the most hysterical voice Jensen thinks he’s ever heard.

“You fucking ape,” Chad’s muttering, pushing up to his knees. “Didn’t spill a drop.” His drink is still just as full as it was before he fell and he lifts it up, triumphant—

Just before he pours it over Jared’s head.

Jensen hasn’t been this entertained since the time Chad got so stoned at an after party that he stripped off all his clothes, wrapped himself in an American flag he got from God knows where and performed a silent, dramatic dance on the hotel coffee table.

Jared tackles Chad to the floor and they start wrestling, laughing, and pulling at each other while people back out of their way. Jensen sips his drink and watches, completely amused. Jared finally pins Chad and tickles him until he begs for mercy, and they both come back to the bar, sweaty and rumpled, arms slung around each other. It’s beautiful in a way, how much they love each other, how happy they are, but it makes Jensen’s heart ache a little, too.

Chad puts a hand on Jensen’s shoulder, other arm still wrapped around Jared as he leans over the bar, yelling “Shots!”

Jared laughs, and Jensen wonders if he’s ever gonna stop being surprised by how gorgeous Jared is. Face slightly flushed, sweating, hair falling into his face, that booming laugh, so full of joy.

They do shots and share jibes and stories, and Chad gets so drunk that he’s sagging, practically falling down, arms wrapped around Jared and Jensen as he sways back and forth between them.

“I think we better get him back to the room,” Jensen says when Chad starts falling asleep right there.

Jared gives Jensen a sideways glance and sets his drink on the bar. “Yeah. Okay.”

Jared and Jensen pretty much carry him to the door, pushing their way through the crowd, Chad’s boots dragging on the floor. Jensen gets one hand on the doorknob, and as if on cue, Mike appears out of the crowd. 

“He okay?”

“Yeah, just passing out. We’re gonna get him back to the room.”

Mike glances at Jared, then back at Jensen, then back at Jared. “You’re… Jared, right?” Mike asks.

“Yeah.” Jared nods, smiling. “Hey Mike.”

Jensen can almost see something click into place inside Mike’s mind. “Aren’t you a friend of Chad’s?”

“That’s right.”

Mike gives Jensen another glance, clapping him on the shoulder, and then he’s gone, moving off through the crowd.

Jared quirks a brow at Jensen and Jensen just shrugs, mystified. He’s still turning it over while they carry Chad across the street to the hotel, security flanking them. Mike’s way of saying he’s trusting Jensen, maybe?

When they get to the hotel room, Chad shoves out of their arms, pushing them away. “Gotta piss,” he mumbles, maneuvering carefully towards the bathroom. He staggers to the doorway, falling against it, and then stumbles over something invisible, falling against the sink. Jared and Jensen glance at each other and Jared shrugs.

“You wanna hold it for him?”

Jensen pulls the bathroom door almost shut and gives Chad some privacy.

They wait, face to face, each leaning a shoulder against opposite sides of the door frame. Jensen isn’t sure what to do with his eyes, but Jared’s _right there_ in front of him, and really, the carpet’s just _not_ as interesting. When he looks up, Jared’s looking right at him, something in his expression that Jensen couldn’t explain if he tried, but hits him like a sledgehammer to the gut with understanding, anyway.

Jensen breathes in, takes a step across the short distance between them. His fingertips brush Jared’s cheek, feather light, tracing the contour of his cheekbone, down to his mouth, riding the swell before he closes his thumb and forefinger around Jared’s chin, pulling him down.

Their mouths meet, slow and easy, fitting together as they slant their heads, lips parting, tongues teasing, sliding over each other. Jensen closes his eyes, fingertips curling against Jared’s face, breathes out through his nose as he sucks Jared’s tongue deeper inside. Jared steps closer, their chests pressing together, and God, he feels so good, breathing in deep as he sinks his fingers into Jensen’s hair, thumbs resting under the hollow of Jensen’s jaw.

Jensen puts his other hand on Jared’s hip, turns him against the wall and lets his whole body fall into Jared, just feeling Jared mold against him like second skin.

The bathroom explodes in sound; jangling, ripping of metal against metal and then the heavy, meaty thud of a body hitting something _hard_.

They yank away from each other, a look shared between them for a split second—and then they’re pushing each other out of the way to get through the bathroom door.

“I’m fine,” Chad insists. He’s lying sideways in the bathtub, knees hooked over the edge, shower curtain wrapped around him like a cocoon. He struggles, shoulders yanking against the clear plastic, and then stops suddenly.

“Okay. OW.”

Jared and Jensen pull him from the tub and stand him upright, trying to unwrap him from the death grip of the shower curtain.

“What hurts?” Jensen asks.

“Back of my head.”

Jensen feels around the back of Chad’s head, fingers stroking the bone as delicately as he can. Chad’s hair is bristly, still growing out from where he shaved it, and it takes Jensen a minute to filter through the texture, find the lump at the base of his skull.

“OW,” Chad says with a pointed look at Jensen.

“Okay.” Jensen pulls his hand away. There’s no blood on his fingers, and Chad’s… as coherent as a wasted person can be. No permanent damage.

“How did you… even do this?” Jared asks, trying to figure out where the plastic curtain ends… begins… whatever; Jensen’s not having any more luck.

“Gravity,” Chad laughs, and then winces.

Finally, between the two of them and their admittedly fairly drunken efforts, they manage to unravel Chad from the plastic of the shower curtain.

Chad sighs with relief and falls on his ass. “Totally grabbed me. Fucking thing.”

“It wanted to eat you,” Jensen confides as he helps Chad to his feet.

“It was an evil, sentient shower curtain,” Jared nods, getting Chad’s arm around his shoulders.

Jensen glances sideways at Jared, both of them smiling at each other.

“Nothing you could have done,” Jensen adds, still looking at Jared.

“Totally doomed,” Jared agrees.

“Shut _up_ ,” Chad groans. “Get me to the fucking bed already.”

They get Chad’s shoes off and get him under the covers. They get him on his side and Jensen tucks the blankets in around Chad’s neck. “Sleep tight.” Jensen presses a kiss to the side of Chad’s forehead, and Chad’s eyes drift closed, his breathing leveling out.

Jared’s sitting next to Jensen on the bed, fingers curling restlessly against the blanket. “Should I head back? I mean, do you wanna stay?” Jared offers, uncertain.

“I think we should stay and keep an eye on him. What if another shower curtain shows up?”

“Yeah.” Jared nods, eyes meeting Jensen’s. “Could be dangerous.”

“You two are gonna fuck right here, aren’t you?” Chad mutters and rolls over on his stomach away from them. “Go do that shit on the couch.” Chad points without looking.

Jensen and Jared look at each other, thinking it over. 

Jensen breaks into a smile. “I think we were given a direct order.”

“Guess we better obey,” Jared whispers.

Chad groans and pulls the blankets over his head.

Unfortunately, by the time they get to the couch, Jensen’s feeling a nagging bit of reality creeping in. “Anybody could come back any time.”

“I’m down for whatever,” Jared breathes, leaning closer to Jensen.

They hit the couch, Jensen’s weight falling on top of Jared, already kissing him. They’re both moaning, hungry for it, and from the other side of the room, Chad sighs.

“Don’t make me have to puke.” 

“Shut up and pass out,” Jared laughs, throwing a couch pillow at him.

Jensen laughs, too, tightens his arms around Jared’s body and claims his mouth again. They make out like teenagers until they’re both breathing heavy, rolling over and over, hips nudging, grinding against each other, hands taking their time roaming all over each other. Jensen hasn’t been this turned on in a long time, hasn’t teased and been teased this much in years—by now he’d usually have Jared naked, squirming underneath him, doing something far dirtier. It feels fantastic.

Jared shoves his hands down the inside of Jensen’s leather pants, fingers sinking into the muscles of his ass. Jensen’s got his hands under Jared’s shirt, palms cupped against Jared’s pecs, fingers squeezing, feeling him, lets them slides down, fingertips catching Jared’s nipples and twisting them. Jared gasps into Jensen’s mouth, body arching into him, making helpless little sounds with each breath as Jensen teases him, pinching, rolling the tender flesh until the slightest touch makes Jared twist underneath his weight. Mouths kissing endlessly, sweet slide and circling of tongues, suckling, nipping. Jared rolls them both over again, Jensen’s back sliding against the couch, finally settling against the seat cushions, Jared’s body draped all over him. 

Jared slides his hands further down the curve of Jensen’s ass, gripping him hard, moan reverberating in his chest, hips rocking, hard lines of their cocks pressed together through their clothes. He kisses deep down into Jensen’s mouth, tongue licking, tasting, hips shaking as he rolls into Jensen’s. Jared moans again, humping Jensen harder, teeth closing around Jensen’s lower lip as Jared shudders.

“Fuck, Jensen. You feel… so good.” Jared shivers, cocks sliding against each other. He hitches in a breath, eyes closing tight like he’s fighting for control.

Jesus, Jared’s going to come right here in his fucking pants. The thought blows Jensen’s mind wide open, heat rushing through him, fingers digging into Jared’s ass, crushing them together even harder. Jensen grinds his hips into Jared as Jared’s cock drags over his again, and that’s it. Jared seizes the material of Jensen’s shirt between his teeth and yanks his head back, pulling savagely as he comes. Jensen holds Jared with one hand on Jared’s ass, the other stroking Jared’s hair as he grinds into him harder, watching Jared’s face. Jared lets go of the material, eyes snapping open, his hips jerking against Jensen's, mouth open, eyes glassy with pleasure, whole body stiff as he keeps coming. Jensen watches him, their eyes locked until Jared finally relaxes, breathing out hard as he kisses Jensen again.

Jensen pulls him in, hands in Jared’s hair, mouth opening wider, kissing him deep. Jared works a hand down between them, shifting his hips to the side, and rubs his palm up the rigid line of Jensen’s cock. Jensen's hips twitch into the touch, his hands grabbing Jared’s hair and pulling him in even deeper. Jared palms him, fingers stroking him through the leather, tracing circles under the crown again and again as they keep kissing, and Jensen comes with a muffled groan, whole body stiffening, and straining against Jared’s hand. Slow, hard, intense bursts of pleasure rippling through him with every long pulse, so good that Jensen feels like he can’t catch his breath, Jared licking at his mouth, suckling his lower lip, those eyes staring into Jensen’s.

He’s still shivering with aftershocks, feeling like a blissed out teenager, leather and come stuck to his skin, fingers curling in Jared’s hair.

“So beautiful,” Jared whispers, tongue flashing inside Jensen’s open mouth. 

They lie like that, Jared’s weight pressing Jensen into the couch, just breathing, arms wrapped around each other, fingers stroking over skin until Jensen’s drifting on the verge of dreaming.

Jared kisses him one last time, slow and sweet, and then starts to pull from Jensen’s arms. “I’d better get going before anyone shows up.”

“Mm mmm,” Jensen hums, tightening his arms around Jared. He’s so comfortable, satisfied, half-asleep, and Jared’s so warm.

Jared chuckles, but he doesn’t try to pull away again, the sound of his breathing, the beating of his heart following Jensen into sleep. When the door bangs open a little later, Mike and Justin staggering into the room, Jared’s gone. Jensen closes his eyes again, rolls onto his side and burrows his face deep into the back of the couch. He still feels warm and good, and all it takes is pulling a pillow over his head to shut out the noise of the room. He drifts back into sleep almost seamlessly.

*

Jensen’s the first one to wake up in the morning. He sits up and stretches, bouncing up from the couch. Oh, right, his pants. Dammit. They’re stuck to his skin like they were applied with super glue, and he can’t believe he spent the night in messy, leather pants. He hits the bathroom right away, clean jeans and a _Led Zeppelin_ t-shirt in his hand. It takes a few minutes of peeling, and a couple of times he thinks he’s going to take skin away with the leather, but he finally manages to get them off without injuring himself. His pants are probably ruined, but he’s got twelve other pairs in varying colors in the wardrobe trailer, so he’s not too worried about it. 

No shower curtain—the metal rings are bent and twisted from Chad’s run in with them. He finds two or three that aren’t too badly mangled and re-hangs it through the couple of un-ripped holes in the plastic. Good enough. He steps under the spray of the shower head, heat hitting his skin with a welcome tingle. He soaps the washcloth and cleans himself completely, head to toe. He washes his hair, hands running along his scalp as he rinses, and it makes him think of Jared last night. God, both of them getting off in their clothes like high school kids—ridiculous, and so incredibly fucking hot.

He soaps his hands again, runs one down over his half-hard cock and fists it. He leans his shoulders back against the cool tile, hot water streaking his skin, stroking himself slow and hard, remembering the way Jared had felt under his hands, the way he’d come staring into Jensen’s eyes. He bites his lower lip and surges, hips thrusting against his fist, coming into the stream of water, head snapping back against the tile.

He rinses again, then gets out and towels off, and by the time he comes out of the bathroom, everyone else is awake. He’s a little hung over, but no worse for the wear. Still, he could use some coffee.

“Coffee’s on the bus,” Mike says, patting Jensen’s shoulder as he brushes past towards the door.

“Morning, Jenny,” Sandy smiles, squeezing his shoulder as she moves to the bathroom.

“What the fuck happened to my head?” Chad is miserable, holding an ice pack against the back of his head. 

Jensen smirks. “Fight with the shower curtain. You lost.” 

Chad glares at him. “Shut up.”

Justin looks like death warmed over as he stumbles up from the bed, zipping his jeans—he looks even worse off than Chad.

“What’d _you_ get into last night?” Jensen asks. “You look like shit.”

“And you’re way too fucking perky,” Justin growls, cranky.

“He is,” Chad agrees, and now they’re _both_ glaring at him. 

“Aw, you two are so cute,” Jensen grins.

Their looks shift from angry to murderous and Jensen smiles, shrugging. He starts gathering up his stuff, shoving it into his bag. There’s a jean jacket draped across the back of the couch that Jensen doesn’t recognize for a second, and then he does. He pushes that into his bag, too.

When they get to the bus, Katie’s in the kitchen, making coffee and eggs. Justin walks right past her to the bunks and disappears. Jensen sinks down on the bench seat. Chad sits down, careful and slow, ice pack still pressed against the back of his skull.

Chad waves off the food and sips the coffee gingerly while Jensen devours his eggs.

“God.” Chad sounds nauseous. “How can you _eat_?”

Jensen opens his mouth, flashing his half-chewed eggs at Chad and Chad turns away, looking pale and green around the edges. “Bastard.”

They’ve only got another few minutes before the crew is done loading up. “What’re you gonna do when Jeff starts driving?” Jensen asks, curious as he shovels in another mouthful.

“Die,” Chad mourns.

“Can I have all your stuff?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I hate you,” Chad groans.

Jensen chuckles and swallows, and Chad subsides into the seat, eyes closing. Katie’s finishing up cleaning the kitchen, and when she’s done, Jensen stops her on the way out.

“Before we take off, can you get this to someone for me?” Jensen has the jean jacket ready to hand off. He could have returned it himself, maybe, if Mike hadn’t been clamoring for them to hurry up and get their sorry asses on the bus. 

“Who?” Katie asks. Chad’s eyes flutter open again, watching them.

“One of our roadies left it in our room. Guy named Jared. Really tall,” Jensen raises a hand to about Jared’s height. “Dark, longish hair, totally built.”

Katie pops her gum, unimpressed. “Got a last name?”

Oh. “Uh…” Jensen blinks and looks to Chad helplessly.

“Jesus Christ, Jensen,” Chad mutters shaking his head and then wincing against the pain. “Padalecki.”

Yeah, okay, he _really_ should have known that. “Jared Padalecki,” Jensen tells Katie.

After Katie leaves with the jacket, Chad’s still glaring at Jensen. 

“What?” Jensen spreads his hands. “It… never came up.”

“If my head didn’t hurt so bad, I’d throw something at you.”

“At least I usually know what year it is.”

Chad rolls slitted eyes at Jensen and then settles back.

Jensen turns the name over in his mind, trying it on for size. It’s different. Catchy, though.

Jared Padalecki.

The bus rumbles to life, lurching into motion, and Chad’s out of the seat like a shot, yelling ‘ow ow ow ow’ and holding his head the whole way to the bathroom.

“Need help in there?” Jensen calls, leaning forward on his seat.

“Fuck… you…” Chad chokes out and retches again.

Jensen shrugs, leans back with his coffee in the sunlight and lets out a contented sigh.

*

It’s almost afternoon, and Jensen's still sitting on the bench seat, penning lyrics into his notebook. Sandy is curled on the seat beside him, reading something, and Chad’s out cold on the other seat, splayed out like he got shot and fell down dead.

“All he needs is a painted outline around him,” Jensen says, nudging Sandy. “That would make it perfect.”

Sandy chuckles, and then leans over, looking at Jensen’s notebook. “What’re you working on?”

Jensen frowns at the words on the page, shrugging. “Not sure. It’s... kinda different.” It definitely feels different—he’s not sure exactly where it came from, or where it’s going, yet, but every time his pen touches the page another word or two comes out.

“I like it so far,” Sandy smiles.

And surprisingly, Jensen does, too.

* 

The Omaha show starts out strictly par for the course, Chad and Justin still feeling like hell, and it’s Jensen and Sandy that end up bringing the energy, playing off each other, dancing and strutting back and forth, playing shoulder to shoulder. Sandy moves up next to Justin for a while, hip and shoulders bumping into him as she plays, and Justin gets a little more into it, leaning his head into her and singing before he yanks away with a snap of his head at the end of the bridge lyrics. Justin starts to move, dancing into the rhythm and then spins out, dancing across the stage while he belts the chorus. Jensen turns and plays his guitar at Chad, grinning, his fingers flying through the chords. Chad rolls his eyes, but he picks up the pace, and Jensen jumps up on the edge of the drum platform, spotlight hitting them both while Jensen gives over to the solo, guitar pick caught between his teeth, two hands tapping up and down the neck, wailing out fast and furious notes that snarl and scream. He grabs his pick as he holds the last note with one hand and picks up the refrain seamlessly, cranes his neck at Chad, laughing and sweating, and Chad’s hitting the drums with hard rolls of his shoulders, body dancing along with the rhythm he’s sounding out.

Jensen jumps down and keeps right on playing, lights moving over him, red green, blue and white, and they hit the end of the song with a burst of sound, crowd cheering with their fists in the air. They launch into the next song without preamble, and they play the fuck out of the rest of the show, whole band totally into it, coming together with a powerful synergy. It’s the most fun Jensen’s had onstage since they played Vegas, and they end up doing a double encore of three songs apiece.

He’s pumped on adrenaline, sweat rolling off him in rivulets, his heart beating frantically by the time the four of them link hands and take a bow. The noise of the crowd is so loud that it’s a single roar of deafening sound.

Justin hangs off Jensen’s hip for a while at the after party, and Jensen lets him. They still haven’t made things right since the argument on the bus about going public, but Jensen doesn’t feel like causing a scene or starting an argument here, so he rolls with it, downing drinks and talking to a group of people by the bar. He knows this is Justin’s way of trying to move on, this and the few halting attempts he’s made at intimacy the last couple of days, but Jensen isn’t sure how to just ‘move past’ something like that. It leaves things awkward between them, and he knows that pretty soon, the strain is going to start taking its toll.

Screw it; he thinks when Justin finally takes off for the other side of the room. He’ll deal with that when they get to it.

“Jen, baby,” Mike slings an arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “Hell of a show tonight. You and Sandy both really made it happen.”

“Thanks.” Jensen’s smile feels a little too tight for his face.

“We’re taking off in a little bit. We’ve got a big show in Chicago tomorrow, and we need to get there early. You gonna be ready to head out in about fifteen?”

Not like he’s got a real choice.

“Sure thing,” Jensen answers, downing his drink. 

*

In Chicago they’re set to play a huge arena show with four other bands playing before them. Mike and Jim and the roadies are busy all morning with the pyrotechnics people, getting everything straight for the band’s safety. Jensen barely has time to breathe all afternoon between talking to a rep from Fender and doing an interview for Guitar Magazine. By then, it’s time for him to get ready to go onstage.

The show is a little strained, but it goes off okay, good enough to make the crowd scream and cheer, standing on their feet by the end.

Jensen’s in the VIP room, throwing back his fifth shot and talking to Kid Rock and Buck Cherry’s guitarist about technique when the background music fades to silence for a split second. He can hear the sweet, strong strands of acoustic guitar, an even sweeter, deeper voice singing along to them.

Jensen would recognize that voice anywhere. 

He excuses himself as the background music kicks in again-- _Nine Inch Nails_ , Trent Reznor singing “Get Down Make Love”--and Jensen tunes it out.

He pushes through the crowd, across the room towards the sound.

There’s a cute-ish guy with long hair playing the guitar, pressed shoulder to shoulder with Jared. They’re leaning their heads against each other as they both sing, Jared taking the lead, the other guy singing back up. They finish out the song laughing and high fiving, and Jared yanks the other guy into a tight hug, squeezing him and clapping him on the back.

“Hey,” Jensen says, walking up and smiling. “You’re singing.”

“Yeah.” Jared shrugs, laughs. “I do that sometimes.” Jared motions to the guy with long hair playing the guitar. “Jensen this is Steve.”

“Fuckin’ pleasure, man,” Steve says, reaching out to shake Jensen’s hand.

“You’re with the other band, right?” Jensen asks, shaking Steve’s hand. 

“Yep. Just getting a little old school with Jared, here.”

“Old school?” 

“We used to play, back in high school,” Steve shrugs. 

Steve, the missing fourth Chad hadn’t mentioned. “Well,” Jensen says slowly, taking his hand back. “I… wish I had my guitar so I could sit in.”

Steve blinks at him, then pulls the guitar strap over his head. “Here, dude. By all means.” He points the neck at Jensen, offering it to him, and shit. Well, okay, then.

“Thanks, Steve.”

He settles the guitar against his chest, just feeling it for a second. Sets his fingers on it and plucks out a few notes. Every guitar has a little bit of a different action, and Jensen’s so used to his own trio of guitars that it feels a bit strange. This one’s acoustic, and it’s been a while since Jensen’s played one of these. Not much different. The strings are a little stiffer, and it takes a little more pressure, a little bit harder strumming, but the sound is rich, sweet and warm as he picks the strings.

“What do you wanna play?” he asks, looking over at Jared.

Jared looks a little self-conscious. “Um. Whatever you want, dude.”

“Oh, come on,” Jensen grins, strumming the strings and leaning forward on one foot. “I play my own stuff all the time.” Not to mention he’s really interested to see what Jared will pick.

Jared thinks about it for a second, and then he nods slowly, hair falling forward into his face, chin pointing downward. “Okay. I’ve… I’ve got one I’ve been working on. It doesn’t have any music yet, though. Can you…?”

“You got a melody in mind at all?” Jensen asks.

Jared lifts his chin, hums out a few bars, and Jensen listens. He plays a few chords, following the rhythm with his own twist. Jared stops, then hums again, and Jensen fine tunes the notes, tightening them to match Jared’s pitch. 

“Something like that?” Jensen asks.

“Yeah,” Jared nods, looking at him strangely again. “Like that.”

“I think I can keep up.” He’s made up music on the fly more than once, after all. “You start. I’ll follow.”

Jared closes his eyes, takes a deep breath—and then his voice rings out, clean and pure against the backdrop of murmured conversation.

_“Can you be so warm  
Can you know what I feel?  
Well, it’s the way you move your hands  
And it’s the way you understand…”_

God, his voice is beautiful, so strong and deep. Jensen plays, following Jared’s lead as he finds the hook of the song.

_“And that’s the reason that I’m askin’  
hey yeay yeahhhhh”_

Jared hits the last ‘yeah’ with an amazing fall and rise of pitch, and Jensen’s fingers fly to follow, finding the groove as Jared gives in to the music. It feels good, so natural, body moving to the sound they’re making.

_“And that’s the reason that I want to know”_

_Hey yeah yeahhhhh”_ , Jensen sings, voice rising on back up, echoing Jared just an octave higher. Jared’s eyes flash to Jensen, leaning in closer.

_“And that’s the reason that I’m askin’  
And that’s the reason that I…”_

Jensen tones down the guitar, hits the core rhythm they started, notes ringing soft and warm, Jared’s voice clearly telling him that they’re regressing to it.

_“Can you throw away  
Everything you live for?  
Well it’s the way we shake and sway  
And it’s the passion that you play…  
And that’s the reason that I’m askin’  
And that’s the reason that I want to know”_

Jared locks eyes with him, leans forward.

_“And that’s the reason that I’m askin’  
And that’s the reason that I…”_

Fuck. Jensen’s fingers are on the chords, and he understands them… but the way Jared’s singing…

Wait. Wait. Bridge to the solo, Jensen knows it, feels it, dials things down a notch, fingers slipping a fret or two, deepening the drama. Jensen holds Jared’s eyes, as Jared’s voice winds higher.

_“Too many lost  
Links in a chain passed down through the years  
But ending here if we just face the pain  
And the fear…”_

Jared wails the word ‘fear’, face working as hard as his voice as he drags it out. Solo, and Jensen has more than an idea what it should sound like, fingers strumming and striking, his shoulder swinging into the notes. He pulls out with one last haunting note hanging in the air, still looking at Jared. Jared lowers his voice, shoulders swaying back and forth, bumping against Jensen as he takes up the next verse.

_“Did you love before  
Didn’t they love before you?  
But it’s the way you move your hands   
And it’s the way you understand…”_

Jensen thinks that if his fingers could stumble, they _would_. Christ, the way Jared’s leaning over, singing to him. Face to face, eye to eye, and Jensen’s hands move on a different plane than his brain.

_“And that’s the reason that I’m askin’  
And that’s the reason that I want to know  
And that’s the reason that I’m askin’   
And that’s the reason that I…_

_Laaaa la la la, la la la”_

Jared’s eyes are dark and knowing, fixed on Jensen’s. Jensen raises his voice with Jared on the next round of _La la la la la la la_. God, it sounds gorgeous, two of them in perfect harmony, and then Jensen takes it a step further, sings out a quick follow up, _lalalalalala_ while he plays, and then together, harmonizing again, Jared taking the follow up this time, and back and forth, back and forth until they wind down, playing off each other’s cues.

Jared’s still looking at him, and he’s still looking back, heart pounding.

The last note dies out, and suddenly Jensen’s aware of everything around them. It’s silent. Everyone gathered, watching them, listening. And then the room breaks into applause, whistling and cheering. Jared bites his lower lip, stands up straight and breaks the gaze between them.

Yeah. Okay. Cheering crowd. Jensen knows what to do. He raises one hand in the air to everyone and smiles.

Jensen glances over at Steve sitting on the couch, about to offer him his guitar back—and Steve’s head is tilted so far to the side Jensen thinks it might fall off, eyes ticking back and forth between Jensen and Jared.

“Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve!” Chad whoops, shoving through the crowd. He does a flying leap and tackles Steve against the couch, people scattering to get out of the way. They roll onto the floor, still hugging and laughing.

Jensen’s heart is still a little out of whack with the energy between him and Jared, eyes wandering back to Jared’s face. Jared’s looking right at him, low heat in his eyes that makes Jensen want to be alone with Jared, right now.

Steve and Chad are distracted, clapping each other on the back and settling into the couch, talking. Jensen takes off the guitar, thanks Steve for the loan.

He walks up to Jared, stopping just short of beside him. “You going somewhere?” Jared asks, voice quiet.

“Was hoping you’d come with me,” Jensen says, looking up at him.

“Was hoping you were gonna ask.” 

Jensen grabs Jared’s hand, pulls him through the crowd, head down, hurrying to the door before anyone can stop them with well-meant conversation or anything else. The door to the room closes behind them, and Jared… comes alive.

“That was… so awesome.” Jared’s grinning, practically bouncing down the hall.

“We did sound pretty amazing,” Jensen agrees.

“We did. And the way it just _flowed_.” Jared is _so_ excited, more riled up than Jensen’s ever seen him—and that’s saying something. He’s got a glow, a pure joy about him. It reminds Jensen a lot of Justin when he gets wound up about performing. Which… really isn’t something he wants to be thinking about right now. But it’s still just as irresistible on Jared.

Maybe… maybe even a little more endearing, because…

“We totally _rocked_ that.” Jared spins on Jensen, grabbing him by the shirt and crashing him into the wall with a dizzying kiss. Jensen laughs into his mouth, arms wrapping around Jared’s shoulders, pulling him in. 

“You always like this after you perform?” Jensen asks, when he can breathe again, heart pounding in his chest.

“I’m a little over-excited, aren’t I?” Jared asks, canting his head to the side, smiling. “Sorry.”

“No.” Jensen shakes his head, smiling. “It’s cute.”

“Cute?” Jared breaks into a grin again, tilting his head even farther to the side, eyes playful. Flirting. He’s _flirting_ with Jensen. God.

“Very.” Jensen lifts his mouth, kisses Jared again.

“Mmm,” Jared moans, breaking away. “Can we…?”

“Yeah, come on.” Jensen threads his fingers through Jared’s and leads him down the hall.

“Where are we going?” Jared asks in a stage whisper, and Jensen chuckles.

“Back to the room. No one will be there for a couple hours yet.”

Jared moves up next to Jensen, shoving his shoulder into Jensen’s. “You mean… in a real bed?” He’s cutting a sideways look at Jensen, and it’s infectiously playful. 

“I know.” Jensen smirks, pushing open the door to the stairs. “It’s a concept, right?”

*

Jensen has a brief discussion with Stan the Security Man before he crosses the street, which basically consists of Stan getting him a walkie talkie so Stan can let Jensen know if someone is on the way. Stan promises to stall them as much as he can if anything happens, and Jensen grabs Stan’s hand, thanks him. It’s not like Jensen’s worried about getting caught or anything, but having people walk in on them, or having to _worry_ about people walking in on them unexpectedly kind of kills the whole experience.

It _is_ ridiculous that he has to go through all this to get a couple hours alone, but that’s what being on tour is like. The band sticks together as much as possible. It causes more opportunities for problems if they don’t. In Mike’s infamous words, _Jimi Hendrix might be alive today if he’d been in a room full of people that night._

He’s right. Not that it stops any of them from sneaking off from time to time. But it lessens the chances.

Jensen shoves the walkie talkie into his pocket, thanks Stan again and turns around.

Jared’s waiting for him there, on the corner of the street, backlit by city lights, cars streaking by. It’s starting to rain, and Jared smiles, turns his head up towards the sky, closing his eyes, catching the droplets on his face. Spattered, shining wetness reflecting the golden glow of lights along the lines of his cheekbones, his nose, his jaw.

Damn.

Jensen steps up, puts a hand on Jared’s waist, and Jared opens his eyes, laughs and leans down, kissing Jensen as the sky starts to pour down. It’s a cold spring rain, and Jared tastes like rainwater and salt, strands of his hair clinging thick and wet through Jensen’s fingers as they laugh together.

*

They’re still dripping wet, clinging to each other and kissing as they push open the door to the hotel room. Jared’s hair is plastered to his face, bodies soaked and clothes sticking together as Jensen spins them around, shoving Jared against the wall. Mouths locked together, bodies moving in a continuous wave, hips rolling, thrusting. God, Jared feels so _good_ , clothes hugging his body like a second skin, muscles solid, hot and hard under Jensen’s hands. Jared’s moaning; rocking into Jensen, his stomach muscles knotting against Jensen’s, tight and so goddamned ripped.

Jared struggles out of his wet jacket, Jensen grabbing the arms and letting Jared tug free. It falls to the floor and Jensen sighs his approval, hands running down Jared’s back, grabbing at the hem of his shirt. It peels away reluctantly under Jensen’s hands, revealing Jared slow inches at a time until Jensen finally tears his mouth away from Jared’s long enough to rip it over his head. 

“We should… at least… try to make it… to the bed…” Jared pants against Jensen’s mouth. “Since we… have one.”

Jensen turns Jared around, kissing him as he backs Jared to the bed. Jensen pushes forward from the balls of his feet with all his weight, both of them freefalling for a split second before they land on the bed, teeth clashing with the impact, Jensen’s body slamming into Jared’s. Jared twists and writhes underneath him, making noises into Jensen’s mouth, hands clutching at him greedily, tearing at his shirt. Jensen lifts up long enough to strip his shirt away and then falls back down against Jared, hands covering Jared’s face, slickness of rainwater still clinging to his skin as Jensen kisses him. 

Jared grabs Jensen by the shoulders and rolls Jensen over, practically pouncing on him. “Wanna ride you,” Jared whispers, lips closing around Jensen’s earlobe. He straddles Jensen and sits up, running his hands over Jensen’s bare chest. He twists his hips a little, rubbing against Jensen’s dick, lower lip catching between his teeth as he looks Jensen over. “So hot.” He reaches down, unbuttons Jensen’s pants walking backwards down the bed on his knees as he strips them off Jensen’s body and tosses them on the floor. “God damn,” Jared says, pausing just to look at Jensen.

Jared unfolds his legs, letting the motion carry him off the end of the bed to his feet. He stands shirtless and gorgeous at the end of the bed, hand reaching into his pocket, pulling out lube and condoms and tossing them on the bed. He undoes his pants while Jensen watches, eyes following the line of Jared’s hip, down, across his stomach to the crease of his thigh, the proud jut of his cock, the muscles in his upper legs as Jared pushes his pants past his thighs and lets them fall, stepping out of them. 

He crawls back up Jensen’s body on all fours and Jesus motherfucking _Christ_ , the way he’s dragging his mouth up the inside of Jensen’s thigh while he’s moving, eyes fixed on Jensen’s--it’s _explosively_ hot. Jared’s mouth ghosts against the hard, flushed skin of Jensen’s cock, tongue flicking out to taste the tip, and Jensen shudders, reaches down and grabs Jared by the shoulders. Jared parts his lips, teasing at the head before he thrusts, taking Jensen in one long stroke and Jensen’s hips rise off the bed to meet him, fingers clawing at Jared’s shoulders. So hot, wet and tight, sucking him with long, slow strokes from base to tip, tongue laving a trail up and down the center, those eyes burning into him the whole time. It’s obscene, the way Jared’s mouth looks wrapped around Jensen’s cock, pink lips sucking and pulling at him, hair falling down into his face, staring up at Jensen through the wet strands. Jensen wants to come just from _watching_ , let alone what Jared’s doing with his mouth, the curl of his tongue, the rolling thrusts of his neck.

Jensen’s hands clutch desperately at Jared’s hair, tugging at him, hips shivering helpless thrusts into his mouth, and fuck, it’s so insanely good. Jared pulls his mouth away with a last twist of his head, licks across the slit once and pushes Jensen’s legs apart. Jensen twitches at the sharp pleasure, and then he’s grabbing at Jared trying to pull him up.

“Wait,” Jared whispers, breath hot between Jensen’s legs. “Wanna…” 

The point of Jared’s tongue trails up Jensen’s crease, flattening out and licking over the rim, and Jensen’s whole body jolts, seizing and surprised by the sudden pleasure as he moans. Jared hums against his body, tongue teasing Jensen with tiny laps and curls, like a goddamned cat licking up cream, and Jensen is twisting against the bed, fingers grabbing at the bedspread when Jared finally pushes his tongue inside Jensen’s body, spreading him open slow and moaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“God fucking _yes_ ,” he hisses, his whole body shuddering. Jared’s tongue is sheer, glorious bliss, thrusting turning, flexing inside him, licking him from the inside out and back again. Jared’s cradling Jensen’s ass in his hands, squeezing the muscles as he drags out, circling the rim and teasing inside with the tip before he plunges in again, filling Jensen deep as he can, lips sealing around the hole and sucking, mouth working as he thrusts in and out of Jensen’s body with slow, languorous rhythm.

Jensen is going to lose his fucking _mind_ \--or maybe break the bed in half, his fingers fisting and pulling at the mattress. Head tipped back, voice hoarse as he spills out a string of curses, hips thrusting without rhythm, without coherent thought, completely lost to the sublime perfection of Jared’s tongue in his ass.

Jensen’s barely aware of Jared rolling the condom onto his dick until Jared gets his hand around the shaft, squeezing it slow down the length. Jensen bucks, arching into Jared’s fist, that tongue still moving inside him with wicked twists—and then Jared starts slicking Jensen’s cock with slow strokes. Jensen feels heat shoot through his stomach, balls tightening, and fucking _God_ it’s—he’s—

“Stop,” he hisses, pulling Jared’s head away.

“Wow,” Jared breathes, letting go of Jensen.

“Yeah.” Jensen holds on to the bed for a few long seconds, biting his lip against the need to come.

Jared sits up on his knees, moves up until he’s straddling Jensen’s hips. “You really…” 

“Yeah.” Jensen reaches out, puts his hands on Jared’s thighs, wanting to feel his skin.

Jared’s eyes flutter, hips rocking into the touch, slick rim brushing over the head of Jensen’s dick. “So, do you…?”

“Sometimes… but mostly… I just love _that_.” Jensen rocks up, cock riding Jared’s crease. “And _this_.”

“Good. Because I really prefer…” Jared braces his hands against Jensen’s stomach, lowers his body, rim stretching around the head of Jensen’s cock, searing hot as Jared twists his hips and sinks down slow. “This,” he whispers, shivering.

“God, me, too,” Jensen whispers out, guttural, feeling Jared clench all around his dick, swallowing him one inch at a time. So fucking hot, watching his cock disappear inside of Jared’s body until he’s resting against Jensen, both of them clutching at each other, Jensen feeling like he’s going to come right of his skin.

“You… were so… amazing tonight,” Jared gasps, corkscrewing his hips against Jensen. “Made the song better… than I imagined…” He lifts, canting away, sweet tug and pull against Jensen’s dick before he thrusts down again.

“God…” Jared shivers, body fluttering around Jensen, then moans deep and long and Jensen can tell his cock hits the sweet spot inside Jared perfectly. “The way you played.”

“Then… we’re even,” Jensen gasps, fingernails sinking into the muscles of Jared’s ass, thumbs locked in the groove of his hips. “I get chills… every time… you sing.”

Jared’s eyes change, flickering to Jensen with soft surprise.

“You’re incredible, Jared.” Jensen fights for air as Jared rocks against him. 

Jared falls forward against Jensen, hands slipping down to Jensen’s waist, gripping as he rides Jensen with those exquisitely muscled long legs. Foreheads pressed together, and Jared dips his chin, mouth opening slow, closing over Jensen’s, tongue slipping inside, soft as his lips. Jensen fits his hand to Jared’s jaw, pulls him in, thumb stroking Jared’s cheek, tongue gliding to meet Jared’s, flickering touch like a candle flame. It shoots sparks all through Jensen, slow burn catching fire, and he’s pulling at Jared’s hair, kissing him desperately, hips shoving upward.

Hands sliding across the sweat of Jared’s body, feeling, flexing, their mouths sealed together, Jared galloping slow against him, Jensen rising into every thrust, tugging back with every pull. They move like a machine slowly churning to life, rhythm speeding up, teeth and tongues catching like cogs, turning against each other, fitting perfectly together. 

It’s slow, slow and so sweet, the tempo they’re building, smooth thrusts rising into the arrhythmic slam of hips, everything falling away except the way their mouths meet, sweet and so fucking hot, moaning into each other. Jensen jerks his hips, hands sliding over the smooth skin of Jared’s ass, angling up and inward. Jared hisses, sucking the breath out of Jensen’s lungs as he lunges, thrusts, hitting that spot again and again, riding it, one hand sliding across the slick sweat of Jared’s waist, closing around his cock.

Jensen doesn’t just rise; he pounds into Jared as Jared thrusts against him, his hand working Jared’s cock furiously, thumbing under the crown and driving into him again, so deep and fast that Jared’s head falls back, mouth gasping and begging. Jensen jerks his wrist as hard as his hips, fingers squeezing, and Jared makes a high keening sound.

“Yeah,” Jensen whispers, pulling away from Jared’s mouth. “Come for me,” he breathes, teeth closing around Jared’s neck.

Jared does, spilling all over Jensen’s stomach, messy and wet and moaning, writhing all over Jensen’s body, muscles seizing Jensen tight and hard, spasming all around Jensen’s cock, and fuck, Christ, so motherfucking hot and—

Jensen comes in a blinding sear of pleasure, teeth tearing at Jared’s shoulder, hips bucking into him, hands gripping, holding Jared tight. Body squirming on the end of his cock, fingernails digging grooves into his chest, down his stomach--hurts and feels so fucking good—

He shoves up and over, rolling Jared underneath him, teeth still sunk into the muscle of Jared’s shoulder, hips pumping, drawing out every last bit of pleasure, hand stripping Jared’s cock as he jolts and twitches, last spurts of his come streaking both their bellies. Jensen digs his feet into the mattress, using it for leverage as he fucks Jared with savage strokes, coming so hard that his eyes roll back in his head, fingers imprinting bruises on Jared’s skin.

He thinks maybe he blacks out for a few seconds before he’s aware of Jared breathing, gasping for air, heart trip hammering, and oh, God, fuck—

“Are you okay?” 

“Oh my fucking God, yes,” Jared laughs, breath shaky.

Jensen lets his head fall against Jared’s chest, breathing just as desperately as Jared, both of them sweating bullets, their bodies sticky and slick and messy, hearts pounding against each other like they’re trying to beat right out of their chests.

“Fuck, Jensen.”

“I know, right?” Jensen flicks his tongue out across Jared’s collarbone, tasting salt, and Jared moans underneath him, twisting, body still quivering with aftershocks that send just as many aftershocks jolting through Jensen as Jared clenches around him. They jerk and shake against each other until finally Jensen has to sit up, pull his cock out of Jared’s body. Jared makes a sound like regret and want that matches the exact feeling running through Jensen right now. He peels off the condom, ties it and throws it towards the trashcan.

He reaches for his own shirt—he’s got two more right here inside the room after all—and cleans the come off both of their bodies. He takes his time; goes at it leisurely, until he’s gripping Jared’s stomach muscles through the material, only thinking about how the shirt’s getting in his way.

He tosses the shirt aside, lays his palms flat against Jared’s chest, then slides them down, fingertips riding the curve and shape, middle fingers stroking over Jared’s nipples, pausing to circle and tease. He lets his hands glide and tease, tasting the texture of Jared’s skin, the lines of his bones, and the shape of his muscles. He fits his hands across every inch of Jared’s body, cupping, curling, squeezing. By the time he’s dragging a fingertip down the crease of Jared’s thigh, Jared’s hard again, straining into Jensen’s touch. Jensen lowers his head and lays down, taking the warm, smooth length of Jared between his lips, and Jared moans, fingers grabbing at Jensen’s hair, twisting and pulling.

Jensen sucks him until he comes, swallowing each small burst as Jared arches, writhing, body corkscrewing against the bed before he shoves into Jensen wholeheartedly, hips freezing there as Jensen keeps suckling him, teasing out every last shudder and shake.

When Jared’s gone still, fingertips twitching reflexively against Jensen’s head, Jensen gets up on his knees, grabs his own hard cock in his hand. It doesn’t take long, only a few, long, yanking strokes before he’s coming, spilling pearly droplets all over Jared’s dick, his stomach, and God, it’s so hot just to _see_ his come on Jared’s skin, but then Jared half sits up, wraps his lips around the head of Jensen’s cock, Jensen grabbing the back of his head and slamming deep, his whole body quaking with the sudden sensation of Jared’s mouth sucking him. He falls down, body shoving Jared’s head against the mattress, hips twitching, fucking deep and holding, Jared sucking him, moaning, tongue swirling up the underside, and fucking _Christ_. Jensen comes one last time, body clenching from head to toe, Jared licking and sucking him until he collapses against the bed, against Jared, fingers gripping the edge of the headboard, teeth ripping at the pillow, riding out the aftershocks as Jared keeps going.

He finally yanks away, gasping, body sliding down the bed until his mouth meets Jared’s, greedy and hungry, Jensen catching Jared’s tongue and sucking the last taste of himself away.

“You wanna shower?” Jensen asks, finally pulling back.

“If I take a shower with you?” Jared says, arching a lazy brow at Jensen. “The last thing we’re gonna do is leave this room.”

He can imagine it all too easily… pushing Jared against the tile, fucking into him from behind, his hand wrapped around Jared’s cock, water streaming hot over their backs.

“You’re right.” Jensen pushes into another kiss, teasing at Jared’s tongue before he pulls back. “Sure you don’t wanna?”

The walkie talkie crackles from the floor, and Jensen sighs.

“Rain check,” Jared smiles.

*

Jensen kisses Jared goodbye, cleans himself up in the bathroom sink and changes into fresh clothes.

Sandy’s in the room, curled up on the bed, and Jensen thinks about curling up next to her, just falling asleep.

He should put in an appearance, though.

Jensen’s hands are in his pockets as he walks down the hallway back to the VIP room, absently humming the song he’d sung with Jared earlier.

The door to the room opens before he gets there, Justin stepping out into the hallway.

Justin’s mouth is a flat line as he looks Jensen up and down. 

He really should have just gone to sleep next to Sandy. “So you’re psychic now?” Jensen asks, surprised.

“Security,” Justin answers, voice taut. “Told them to let me know when you were heading back.”

Justin knows he was gone, likely knows who Jensen was with.

“So,” Justin says. “Look at you, all happy. Was it the fucking, Jen? Or maybe the singing?”

Reality sinks its claws deep under Jensen’s skin with the words. “You were there for that?” Jensen feels his heart sink a little. Fuck. 

“Yeah. Didn’t wanna interrupt you since you were having _such_ a good time.” Justin’s voice is angry, brittle. “Think he wrote it for you, Jen?”

The question stops Jensen dead in his tracks. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Justin rolls his eyes. “‘The way you move your hands’? ‘The passion that you play’? God knows you’ve fucked him enough for him to get attached. Like I said in the beginning; bad fucking idea.”

“Since when are you the jealous type?”

“Since I think maybe I’ve got a reason to be.” Justin stops walking, steps closer to Jensen. “Do I, Jen?” he whispers, looking into Jensen’s eyes. 

“Justin…” Jensen is still stunned, breathless. “We’ve been together forever.”

“Not answering my question, Jen.” Justin takes another step closer, eyes flashing. “First you’re fucking staff; not like you at _all_. Then you’re fucking him exclusively, as often as you can-- _also_ not like you. Now you’re playing together and singing songs that he _obviously_ wrote for you. So go ahead. Tell me I shouldn’t be jealous.”

Jensen just stares at Justin, pupils flickering back and forth between those angry brown eyes. He isn’t sure how he got here, and the words he knows he’s supposed to say won’t come.

“Tell me,” Justin demands, grabbing Jensen by the hips and pushing him to the wall. Justin’s face is bare inches from Jensen’s, looking down at him, challenging. Justin’s waiting for an answer, for Jensen to prove Justin wrong. 

“I love you,” Jensen whispers. He does. Beautiful, confused, fucked up boy, and Jensen loves him. Loves him with an intensity and pain so deep he feels like it could crack him in half. Christ.

“You can’t say it… can you?” Justin asks, shaking his head. “Is this about the fight we had? Jen… just because we’re not out doesn’t mean we can’t be happy together.”

“No. The fact that we’re _together_ means we can’t be happy together,” Jensen contradicts, guilt and regret flashing through him immediately.

“Jenny…” Justin’s voice is wounded. “Don’t.” His hand fits against Jensen’s face, familiar, so warm, and Jensen can’t help the feeling it sends through him. “Not going public… it doesn’t change anything between us.”

“Yeah,” Jensen sighs, eyes closing. “I know.” 

That’s really the problem.

Jensen doesn’t add the words, but Justin feels them anyway, hand twitching before he pulls away.

He turns so that Jensen can’t see his face, voice angry and hurt. “Fine. Get back at me with your fucking crush. I’ll be here when you’re done,” he throws the words over his shoulder like a parting shot as he stalks off.

*

Jensen crosses the street, security all around him as he goes back to their hotel suite. The room is dark, and he reaches into the bathroom, flicks on the switch and closes the door until it’s almost flush, just enough light to see by. 

“You guys good?” he calls out into the hallway, mostly sarcastic, and one of the security guards nods, headset shaking.

Jensen shuts the room door and makes his way through the half darkness to the couch He falls back against it with a long sigh, arms closing around a pillow and pulling it to his chest. He hurt Justin’s feelings tonight, and he thinks he should feel worse than he does about it, should probably go after him and try to fix this. He just… doesn’t have the energy. 

And then… there’s Jared.

Breaking his own rules to be with Jared, trying to find him all the time... Jensen’s had sex with the occasional groupie on more than one occasion, but nothing like this. Nothing exclusive.

Did Jared really write that song for him?

God dammit. Until Justin asked him, there hadn’t even been a question. Now that the door’s been opened, he can’t close it.

Jensen lies there for a long time, rubbing his hand over his face, thinking.

Shouldn’t matter if Jared _did_ , after all.

_“Can you be so warm  
Can you know what I feel?  
Well, it’s the way you move your hands  
And it’s the way you understand…”_

Shouldn’t. 

But it does. 

_Can you throw away  
Everything you live for?  
Well it’s the way we shake and sway  
And it’s the passion that you play…  
And that’s the reason that I’m askin’_

The depth of feeling that would have to be behind phrasing like that, the emotion that Jared sang it with…

No. He finally decides. Justin’s just overreacting. There’s no way Jared wrote that song for Jensen. It would be ridiculously sweet and romantic if Jared had, though, and Jensen finds himself entertaining the thought for a few minutes.

_Too many lost  
Links in a chain passed down through the years  
But ending here if we just face the pain  
And the fear_

Such a beautiful invitation to a new life. There’s no way Jared meant it for Jensen. But… it makes him wonder…

What if it was?

He lets himself imagine it for just a split second—and then he clamps down on the thought. He shouldn’t be thinking about these things. It’s completely wrong.

Besides, that was way too pretty and peaceful of a place that Jensen was imagining. Reality is never like that. 

Reality is what he’s dealing with right now.

Dreams, though, are beyond his control, and when he finally sleeps, he dreams of Jared, their bodies tangled together under the open night sky.

His phone rings at 4a.m., waking him from much more pleasant places. He opens it, squinting against the glow of the caller ID. 

Mike. Fuck. 

“Yeah?”

“Jen. Don’t freak, okay? Justin’s… really fucked up. I mean, he’s okay. But he’s asking for you… Jen, we need you.” 

Jensen’s on his feet, not even listening to Mike anymore, running down the hallway.

*

It’s a short trip across the street to the arena. He runs, security barely keeping up with him until he gets to the private entrance.

The security guard doesn’t even ask, opens the door for him, and Jensen moves past him with a nod, keeps right on running up the stairs to the VIP room.

“What’s going on?” he demands as he slides onto the floor next to Justin, fingers going straight for Justin’s pulse.

“He’s okay, Jen,” Mike assures. “He’s just… really fucked up.”

“Where’s Jensen?” Justin demands, eyelids fluttering.

“I’m here,” Jensen breathes, leaning in close, face to face with Justin.

“Jensen.” Justin’s calling for him like he doesn’t know Jensen’s right there, two inches from his face.

“Justin.” Jensen grabs him by the chin, shakes his head a little. Justin’s eyelids don’t even flutter, now, lashes resting against his cheeks.

_Fuck._

“What the hell is he on?” Jensen hisses at Mike, instantly angry at Mike for letting Justin get to this point.

Mike shakes his head, shrugs. “I wish I knew.”

If looks could kill, Mike would be dead right now.

Justin’s pulse is steady, so is his breathing; he’s just spectacularly fucked up beyond all belief.

“Let’s get him back to the room,” Jensen sighs.

*

Some of the groupies and roadies trail after them, hovering at the edge of the hotel room door like this is some kind of _show_ or something.

The second Jensen gets inside the room, he snaps, “Everyone who’s not band, out, right the fuck now.” 

“Is he..?” one of the girls starts to ask.

Jensen turns to look at her. “He’ll be fine. Just go.” The group starts to recede, and Jensen spots Jared near the back of the crowd. “Jared,” he calls, motioning Jared into the room.

Jared steps inside and shuts the door.

Chad and Sandy are right by Jensen’s side as they lower Justin to the bed. Jensen runs his fingers through Justin’s hair, checks his breathing again—and he’s _okay_. He’s not going to die. He’s just way too fucked to be able to make sense.

“He’s fine. He’s out cold, but he’s fine.” Jensen sighs and stands up. “Stand down from red alert.”

Sandy does her own check, hand running down Justin’s cheek to his pulse, and then she pats Justin’s chest, turning away. She sits down in one of the chairs beside the bed, and Mike falls into the chair beside her. Chad sits on the edge of the bed to talk to both of them, and that leaves Jensen and Jared, sitting on the other side of the bed, just looking at each other.

“You okay?” Jared asks, voice low.

“Yeah.” Jensen nods. He runs a hand over his face, looking down at Justin.

“You don’t _look_ okay,” Jared adds, almost like a question.

Jensen’s teeth worry at his lower lip as he debates, eyes sliding over to Mike, Sandy and Chad, all of them close enough to hear what Jared and Jensen are saying. Jared catches his eye movement and cranes his neck, head tilting towards the couch that’s farther away.

Sure. Why not? Everything’s already screwed up, why not just enjoy how screwed up this actually is? Why not just sit on the couch privately with Jared and share his relationship problems? Jared would _love_ that, right?

“You don’t really wanna know,” Jensen confides with a brittle laugh.

“Yeah.” Jared’s hand comes to rest on Jensen’s shoulder, gentle and comforting. “I really do.”

Why does he have to be so… 

It’s not fair.

And it’s really not helping Justin’s whole crush theory.

“You know you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. But if you wanna talk… I’m here.”

Jensen is reminded of the roadside woods, moonlight drifting down, Jared sitting there beside him, like he is right now. Not asking for anything, not wanting anything, just _being there_. No pressure, no expectation, just a decent human being who cares about another human being. 

Jensen runs a hand through his hair and nods. He checks Justin’s pulse one last time and then stands up from the bed, walking to the couch. He sinks down into the plush softness of it, wonders for a split second if Jared really meant it.

Jared sits down next to him, not too close, a respectful distance away, his hands folding together across his lap.

Jensen doesn’t know how or where to begin. So he starts with the strongest feeling inside him right now.

“It was because of me.”

Jared nods, thumbs sliding back and forth across each other as he thinks that over. “Why do you think that?”

Again, he doesn’t know how to explain. He _wants_ to. He just can’t. “Justin was… we had a fight...and I.” Jensen grits his teeth, thinking about exactly what they’d fought over, and how Jared’s sitting right here, so close. “Said some things I shouldn’t have—“ and _didn’t_ say some things he should have, “and he took off, all upset, and then…” Jensen gestures at the bed.

“So you forced all those drugs into him, all that alcohol?” Jared is politely sarcastic. “I didn’t guess you for such a pusher, Jensen.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jared rubs his hands together, then clasps them, lower lip curling under his upper as he seems to debate something.

“I’m guessing Chad told you we used to be in a band together?” he asks, shooting Jensen a glance.

“Yeah. He mentioned it.” Jensen nods, tensing a little. He’s got to be really careful what he says if that’s what Jared wants to talk about. He can’t let anything slip.

Jared nods, like he expected that. Then he locks eyes with Jensen. “Did he tell you about me and Milo?”

Shit. Jared’s not supposed to straight up _ask_ him that. How the fuck is Jensen gonna lie with Jared looking at him like that, with those soft, honest, hazel eyes?

“I… he…” Jensen feels like an idiot, tongue all twisted up in knots.

Jared nods again like Jensen answered him, a small smile twisting his lips as he looks down at the floor. “It’s okay. I figured he probably did. It’s not like I wouldn’t want you to know. And it’s… probably easier than me having to explain it.”

Jensen just nods, feeling like an even bigger idiot.

“After he died… I was… so strung out… so lost,” Jared shakes his head. “I don’t even like to think about it. Drunk, high, fucked up out of my mind 24-7 just so I didn’t have to feel the pain. And then, one night, I was getting way too sober, and all I could get my hands on was a hit of acid. So there I was…thinking about Milo and tripping—not too hard—not nearly hard enough, I thought--and I… I had this moment of clarity, you know, sort of like a mini-epiphany, I guess… where part of my brain stepped to the front and said, ‘keep this up and you’re gonna end up just like Milo did. This is destroying you. Is that really how you wanna go out’? And it hit me… I had to make a decision. I could let this guilt eat me alive and keep running myself into the ground with drugs until it killed me, or I could try to move on. There was a decision to make. And the… the second I realized _that_ … I realized Milo’d had the exact same choice. Just like me… it didn’t matter what people told him, didn’t matter how much I tried… he was the only one who could save himself. I was the only one who could save me. And I… wasn’t going to make the same choice he did.”

Jensen just stares at him. “Jared… that’s…” He frowns then. “You figured all that out while you were tripping?”

“It can be like that, when you don’t do enough to tranq an elephant.” 

“So what’d you do then?”

“It was… kind of like getting hit in the head with a hammer. Everything changed after that. I got my shit together, stopped getting fucked up all the time. And eventually what I figured out actually sank in and… I realized what happened to Milo really wasn’t my fault.” Jared takes a deep breath and hesitates, glancing sidelong at Jensen. “What’s happening to Justin… that’s not _your_ fault, either.”

“It’s good that you’re there for him Jensen... But if he goes down… don’t let him take you down with him.” Jared says it so seriously, with such gravity, somber hazel eyes fastened on Jensen’s—like it actually matters to him.

Jensen nods, unable to find his voice. 

Jared rises to his feet with a small smile. “Now that I’ve _way_ overstepped my bounds, I should…” Jared makes a motion towards the door.

“You didn’t,” Jensen says, voice rough. “Can you… I mean, do you have to go?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Jared answers, hesitating by the couch.

It feels like it should be wrong for him to want Jared to stay. But then, Justin’s the one who went and checked out on reality and left Jensen behind to deal with the mess. Jensen should at least get to decide how he wants to deal with it.

He’s rationalizing.

It’s probably a bad idea, and if Justin wakes up, he won’t be happy to see Jared. But Justin’s so fucked up he’d be lucky to recognize Jared, much less get pissed about him being here. And fuck Justin in the first place for making Jensen have to second guess his every thought.

Yeah. Definitely rationalizing.

Maybe… he just wants what he wants… and damn the consequences.

“Stay.”

Jared gives Jensen a sideways glance and tucks his hair behind one ear. It’s no less endearing than the first fifty times Jensen watched him do it.

Crush. Yeah. Jensen might have one. Just a little.

And why wouldn’t he? Christ. That body, that face, the way he moves, and laughs—so easy and happy. His smile, his hair always tumbling into his face, those hands, the way he thinks about things, honest and real. And… his mouth. God. His _mouth_. So wide and pretty, plush lower lip just pouty enough to suck on—

He shouldn’t… shouldn’t be… _letting_ himself have these kinds of thoughts about anyone else. Wouldn’t be if Justin hadn’t made such a fucking big deal out of everything earlier.

This is all Justin’s fault.

Rationalizing for the win.

Jared sits back down beside him as Chad rolls up, whiskey bottle in his hand.

“So are we mourning, or partying, or what the fuck?” Chad demands, opening his arms as he falls back onto the couch on the other side of Jared.

“Telling my deepest darkest secrets, huh?” Jared asks with a grin, punching Chad in the shoulder as he sits down.

Chad’s confused for a few seconds, and then his eyes go wide, flicking to Jensen. “God damn you, Jen.”

“It’s okay,” Jared adds, pushing his shoulder against Chad’s. “I figured you did, so I asked him. He didn’t give you away, but the look on his face was answer enough,” Jared chuckles.

Chad takes a moment, digesting all of that, and then he nods slowly, relaxing and settling back against the couch. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to hurt a face pretty as his.”

“Yeah. He is kinda pretty,” Jared agrees with a teasing smile. “Be a shame to ruin it.”

Chad snorts and Jensen… doesn’t know what to do, so he reaches across Jared and plucks the liquor bottle from Chad’s hands.

“Hey, motherfucker. Don’t drink it all.”

Jensen winks at him as he tips up the bottle for a long drink.

“So,” Chad says, tugging at the collar of his shirt as he leans against the arm of the couch. He lowers his voice, pitching mostly at Jared. “You guys were talking about Milo?”

“Yeah,” Jared nods. There’s a look that passes between Chad and Jared that Jensen can’t quite read.

“But about the whole band thing…?” Chad asks, moving one hand to indicate said thing, brows rising as if in question. An entire _conversation_ takes place between them, based solely on the looks they’re giving each other.

Chad finally nods and then looks at Jensen. “Gimme my fifth, motherfucker. And then grab one of your guitars.” Chad half turns around on the couch. “Hey Sandy—loan me your bass? One of them? What the fuck is the plural for bass, anyway?”

Sandy stops in mid-sentence talking to Mike, brows rising. “What?”

“I said gimme your bass, woman.” Chad makes gimme motions. 

Sandy is unimpressed. “Playing bass is hard.”

“Not the way he plays it,” Jared yells over his shoulder, laughing.

Sandy laughs, and Chad shoves Jared so hard Jensen nearly ends up with a lapful of him.

“When we were back in high school, I started out playing bass—“

“Until you sprained your finger trying,” Jared chokes out the words between laughing.

“Fine.” Chad nods. “I see how it is. Then, Sandy, get your cute ass over here and drop a bass line for me, would ya?”

“Oh my God,” Jared breathes. “You’re not serious.”

“I’ve still got all the tablature, you fucker.” Chad’s up and staggering across the room.

“You actually carry all that shit around with you?” Jared asks, astounded.

“Goddamned right.”

“You’re _sick_.”

Chad’s digging through packs, throwing clothes out on the floor, and Jensen is completely mystified.

“He’s gonna make me sing,” Jared confides, leaning towards Jensen.

“Yeah?” Jensen’s way too aware of how close Jared is. “You complaining?”

“High school songs, Jensen.” Jared is emphatic, completely serious and entirely too close to Jensen as he looks him in the eye. “Save me.”

The pleading look he gives Jensen is too cute for words, and Jensen can’t help but grin. 

“Nobody’s saving your ass,” Chad decrees, pointing a finger at Jared as he yanks a sheaf of paper out of God knows where. Chad holds up the stack like an Olympic torch, triumphant, and Jared groans. “I have been waiting _waaaaay_ too long to hear this shit again.”

Papers clenched between his teeth, Chad opens Jensen’s guitar case and pulls out his favorite.

“Thith,” Chad says, word muffled around the paper as he thrusts Jensen’s custom-made red and black Fender Strat into his lap. He yanks the papers out of his mouth. “Is for you. And…” Chad leafs through the stack, tugs a couple sheets free and tosses them on Jensen’s lap, too. “So’s that.” Chad seizes the moment and snatches his fifth back from Jensen’s hand.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jared says, breath warm against Jensen’s ear. “ _Really_.”

And he really _shouldn’t_ do it, for that matter. If Justin woke up… 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Jensen smiles, tugging the strap over his shoulder.

“Wait. You have _tablature_?” Sandy sounds amazed, and interested. “ _High school_ tablature?”

“Yep,” Chad nods, falling back onto the couch.

“I’m in,” she says, getting up.

Mike kneels down behind the couch and leans in towards Jensen, scent of alcohol thick on his breath. “If I knew what was going on, would it make any more sense?”

Sandy sits down on the floor cross-legged in front of them, bass in her hands as she studies the sheet music in front of her. Her brows draw together, nose wrinkling as she looks up at Chad. “Did you write this? It’s really good for high school.”

Chad and Jared share another look, and Jensen is suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to be a fly on the wall during their private conversations.

“Our band’s bassist,” Chad says, waving a hand like it’s no big deal.

So Milo played bass. Jensen really should have guessed that, considering Steve.

“Guitar’s good, too,” Jensen comments, looking over the sheet music. Of course, it _wouldn’t_ be _bad_ , considering they got signed. “Did Steve write this?”

“Nah. Steve was our second guitarist. Our first one graduated a year ahead of us, left the band.”

“Who wrote the lyrics?” Jensen asks, reading them thoughtfully.

“That’d be me,” Jared sighs. “I was seventeen. Don’t judge me.”

“They’re good.”

Jared’s mouth quirks in a slight smile, and he glances down, like he’s embarrassed. “Thanks.”

“Okay. I’d love to drag out my drum kit, but…” Chad spreads his hands, then leans forward, slapping his palms against the coffee table. “I’ll just have to make do.”

“Not like our electric instruments are gonna make much noise without amps.” Sandy shrugs, thumbing at her bass.

“Guess Jared here’ll just have to carry us.” Chad grins and thumps his hands against the table.

It’s a ballad, and it’s very pretty, warm guitars chords woven into a melody that sets a melancholy mood. Sandy picks out her chords, head nodding with the rhythm, and then Jared’s voice rises, loud and deep and perfect.

_“Happiness  
More or less   
It's just a change in me   
Something in my liberty   
Oh, my, my   
Happiness   
Coming and going   
I watch you look at me   
Watch my fever growing   
I know just where I am _

_But how many corners do I have to turn?  
How many times do I have to learn   
All the love I have is in my mind?”_

It’s a little repetitive, but then so are most of Jensen’s earlier songs. But it’s Jared’s voice that makes it, sells it, gives it a soul. He takes the poetic simplicity of the lyrics and unfolds them gorgeously into a sad story, so much emotion packed behind the words that Jensen feels chills race over his skin.

_“Gotta love that'll never die  
Gotta love that'll never die   
No, no   
I'm a lucky man”_

It’s so sad. Ironic, even. It bothers Jensen a little, how much he can relate.

They finish out the final chords, Jared singing how he’s a lucky man, again and again until they reach the end.

Chad’s nodding, looking satisfied, and Sandy’s staring at Jared, impressed.

Mike taps Jensen on the shoulder, and Jensen turns to look at him. The expression on Mike’s face is priceless, mystified as he points at Jared. “He’s our _roadie_?”

Jensen laughs. “Yeah.”

“But…” Mike’s shaking his head, staring at Jared. “Why is he our roadie?”

“Have another drink, Mike.”

Mike stares for another second and then shrugs, tipping his bottle back.

Chad, Jared and Sandy are all talking, and Jensen’s still chuckling as he sifts through the pages of tablature, curious. A picture falls from between the sheets into his lap and he glances down.

Jared and Chad look so young—impossibly young. Chad’s arm is wrapped around Jared, Jared with one arm wrapped around Chad, the other arm pulling in a boy with long, dark hair, cut at angle down to his chin, covering one eye. He’s got a pretty face, angular and thin, strong jaw and cheekbones. The one eye Jensen can see is as dark as his hair, and thin as the smile is on his face, Jensen can tell its genuine, that single eye looking at Jared as Jared is yanking him into the frame. Jared’s looking back, laughing, and Jensen can tell just by the light in Jared’s eyes that the guy has to be Milo. Jared’s as gorgeous as Jensen’s ever seen him, glowing and alive and happy, hair a couple inches shorter than it is now, but that’s the only thing that’s different.

Jensen looks back at Milo again, tries to see what Jared saw there. He sees sadness in the depths of Milo’s eye, in the dark circle wreathing beneath, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. He’s a total James Dean type; the image of a moody rebel, the kind that makes people want to rescue them just as much as they admire them.

It’s… hard to believe Jared ever fell for someone like that. It doesn’t feel like his type.

What the hell does he know about Jared’s type, anyway?

“Find something interesting?” Jared asks, leaning over.

Jensen looks up and meets Jared’s eyes, fingers finding the photograph on his lap and sliding it back between the pages, thumb holding it in place.

“You trying to sing another high school song?” Jensen asks, smirking.

“Dear God, no,” Jared laughs.

Jensen arches a playful brow at him, and Jared shakes his head, still laughing underneath his breath as he leans in, whispers, “Please no.”

Jensen wants to kiss him, tuck his hair back behind his ear and kiss him down into the couch. 

“Jensen!” Sandy’s yelling, trying to get his attention, and dammit, he really wishes he and Jared were alone right now.

“What was that one song, the one you wrote and sang back in high school? The one Justin made you sing last year when you were totally trashed backstage at the Rainbow Room?”

Jared raises his brows, looking at Jensen with a smile and a challenge.

Jensen sighs out a laugh and sits back. “Yeah. I remember that one. It was called ‘Fuck You, Sandy, I’m Not Singing That Shit’.” 

“Ohhhh, no. Uh uh, Jenny-boy.” Chad laughs, tipping his bottle up. It sloshes on the way back down, spilling onto the carpet. “Jared suffered, now it’s your turn.”

Jensen looks desperately to Jared for help, and Jared just shrugs. “Wouldn’t miss it,” Jared says, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

_Fuck._

*

Chad and Sandy are whooping, laughing and clapping, and Mike’s passed out on the floor, bottle still held upright in his hand.

“And now,” Jensen says as he winds down the final chords of the song, eyes finding Jared’s. “You know why I only sing back up.”

“I like your voice.” 

“Don’t suck up to me,” Jensen laughs and shakes his head.

“Not. Your voice is really pretty. It’s got a quality. More real than most lead singers.”

“That’s a polite way of saying not as trained,” Jensen smirks.

“Don’t worry, Jared,” Chad laughs, smacking Jared on the back. “Jenny wouldn’t know how to take a compliment if it let him fuck it up the ass.”

Oh, that is just _it_. Jensen flicks his guitar pick at Chad’s forehead and hits him right between the eyes with surprisingly perfect accuracy.

Chad blinks. “Motherfucker.” And then he’s leaping across the couch, Jared falling back, laughing as Chad tackles Jensen.

“Guitar,” Jensen shouts, trying to turn and protect it.

“Oh no, you fucker, you don’t get to hide behind your guitar.” Chad stops long enough to yank Jensen’s guitar strap over his head and hands it to Jared before he tackles Jensen again, the two of them tumbling to the floor.

They’re both so drunk that it’s more like dancing bears than actual wrestling. Jensen wins, pinning Chad underneath him and holding up one hand in victory before Chad grabs him, rolls him over and declares his own victory for two seconds before Jensen’s on him again, pinning him against the carpet.

Jared and Sandy look entirely entertained, sitting side by side on the couch and sharing comments behind their hands as they watch. Finally, Jensen and Chad are too exhausted to wrestle anymore and declare a truce, dragging themselves back up to the couch. It’s a little crowded with all four of them, but Jensen doesn’t mind the feel of Jared pressed up against him at all. Chad tips his fifth at Jensen across Jared and Sandy, and Jensen grabs it, grinning before he takes a long drink.

The four of them finish the bottle and then steal Mike’s from his sleeping hand.

Jensen gets drunk enough to wonder how wrong it would be to make out with Jared in front of everyone with Justin passed out ten feet away. 

That’s when he knows it’s time to go to bed.

*

The first thing Jensen sees when he opens his eyes is Justin standing next to the bed, tugging a fresh shirt over his head.

He sits up, yawning—and then freezes when he sees the couch. Chad and Jared are passed out, half-sitting up, bodies leaning in opposite directions against the arms of the couch.

“See we had some company last night,” Justin remarks, buckling his belt.

Fuck. After the shit Justin pulled last night, there’s no way Jensen should feel guilty about having Jared stay. But he does, and that just makes him angry. But if it weren’t for Jared in the first place, then… No. It’s not his fault that Justin got that fucked up—except for how he feels like it is, and God _damn_ it, when did this all get so fucked up, anyway?

“Not like we were fucking with everybody here.”

“Not really the fucking that bothers me, Jen.” Justin shoots the words right back, shoving the end of his belt through the loops in his jeans with more force than necessary.

At the sound of his voice, Jared stirs on the couch, sitting up and stretching. And still, here in the middle of it all, Jensen can’t help but notice the way his shirt rides up, showing his ripped stomach when he raises his hands in the air.

“Oh, hey, Jared,” Justin says, turning. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Jared blinks sleepily at Justin and rubs his eyes. “Not sure. Sun’s up anyway.” 

Justin advances another step towards Jared and Jensen sighs, climbs out of bed and tugs his shirt back on. He’s gonna have to get in the middle of this, and he’ll feel a hell of a lot more prepared with all his clothes on. A giant cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt, either.

“Have fun last night?” Justin asks.

Jared yawns and tilts his head back while he nods. “Yeah,” he says before he closes his mouth, still nodding. “It was awesome. I got to sing with the band, and Jensen even sang one of his high school songs for us. It was a blast. You shoulda been there.” Jared’s smiling at Justin, looking completely genuine… does he have _any_ idea?

The look Justin throws Jensen could cut him in half where he stands. “Yeah… I was too busy being passed out, sorry,” he says looking back at Jared.

“It happens.” Jared shrugs, like he can’t hear a single sarcastic note in Justin’s voice. “Too bad, though. You would’ve enjoyed it.”

“I doubt it.”

“Really?” Jared’s brows draw together, confused and frowning. “Because Jensen couldn’t shut up about ‘if Justin were here’ and saying how much you’d love it and what a shame it was.”

And now Jared’s just flat out lying. What… is he doing?

Justin pauses, eyes narrowing on Jared as he considers that. “No…” Justin says, slowly. “No he didn’t.”

Jared tilts his head to the side and then nods. “No. He didn’t.” Justin is so astounded by the light tone of agreement in Jared’s voice that he’s speechless for a moment.

“But I’m sure he was thinking it the whole time,” Jared says, getting up from the couch. He’s nonchalant, rising up on the balls of his feet, hands locking behind his head as he arches, stretching. Jensen takes a three second break from the completely nonsensical events happening around him to appreciate Jared’s stomach again… and his chest, t-shirt hugging the muscles… and the cut of his bare arms as they flex.

Justin is completely caught off guard—and besides the fact that Jensen’s completely certain that Justin’s checking Jared out, too, really, there’s nothing negative Justin can say about that without looking totally insecure. “Right,” Justin finally nods, and Jensen knows the word has to cost him. Justin takes another hesitant step forward and then folds his arms over his chest. “Must’ve been a big night for you, getting to sing with the band. Not really what you’re used to—is it?”

“Not really so different,” Jared shrugs. “I’m around you guys pretty much 24/7. But like I told Jensen a while back, I’m no Justin Hartley.”

Justin looks so confused that Jensen almost wants to laugh out loud. But that would be a mistake. “You don’t think so?” Justin asks, arching a brow at Jared.

“Oh, no, I’m nothing like you at all.” Jared’s completely serious as he looks back at Justin. 

Justin’s still contemplating that when Jared yawns again. 

“Well, I gotta get back. See you, Jensen. Justin.” He pauses for a second, and then he turns, walking towards the door.

“Be careful, Jared,” Justin calls after him, and Jensen winces at the obvious meaning of the words, seized by the brief urge to slap Justin.

Jared opens the door, turning his face. “Yeah, you, too,” he says, throwing Justin a smile over his shoulder before he steps into the hall and shuts the door behind him.

“What was…?” Justin asks; turning angry, amazed eyes on Jensen. “Was he fucking with me?”

“Seemed perfectly polite to me,” Jensen shrugs. “What do you think, Chad?” He looks over to where Chad is blinking, red-eyed and angry.

“I think you two should shut the fuck up before I kill you with my brain.” Chad glares at them for good measure and then slams a pillow over his head, groaning.

“Your brain can’t even kill _you_ ,” Justin laughs. 

“His lack of deadness _does_ seem to point in our favor.” Jensen exchanges a smirk with Justin. 

It’s calculated, but it works. He’d rather gloss over Justin’s behavior last night than deal with the argument that’s waiting for him behind that discussion.

For a few minutes, things are better.

*

Justin is grumpy again by the time they board the bus, and he picks a fight with Jensen before Jensen’s even had his first cup of coffee. It doesn’t get any better after he _does_ have a cup of coffee. Justin’s angry, singed about Jared being in the room last night, and everything between them is brittle and jagged, cutting edges tearing at Jensen’s heart. He knows it’s hurting Justin just as much; can see it in every line of his face, hear it in every brutal word. But that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

How can he make things right with Justin if he can’t even make things right in his own mind?

St. Louis is like the Omaha show’s bastardized inverted twin. Justin’s way too high before he even gets onstage and his timing is slightly off. He’s throwing the whole band curves left and right as they try to steady the tempo and match his pace and it’s more like fighting than playing. 

Which is probably the whole point. Jensen knows Justin’s getting tired of him being distant. But this isn’t the fucking place to deal with it.

Jensen suffers through the encore songs as Justin handpicks each one, and each one is an intense trip through utter pain that Jensen can’t help but hear and feel. It’s a relief to get off the stage, for once, and he can’t get off it quick enough.

Jensen goes to the bar in the VIP room and orders a double; downs it, then orders another. 

Jensen wanders the room for a bit before he spots Jared on a couch in the corner, piled in with a bunch of roadies and groupies smoking up. There’s a tall, pretty guy with dark hair and ice-blue eyes squished in next to Jared, practically falling all over Jared, hitting on him. Squared jaw and massive shoulders, ring jutting from the side of his round lower lip; he must be a roadie from the other band, because Jensen knows he’s never seen him before, and with a build like that he’s surely not a groupie. He’s the type Jensen might consider picking up himself, or would have, in the past. Before his dance card got full and all.

Jared’s brushing his hair back from his cheek, smiling and animated as he talks to the guy, hands moving as he explains something. Jensen notes the way the guy is pressed up against Jared, shoulder leaning into his, face just a fraction closer than necessary for normal conversation, and Jared’s clearly aware of it—couldn’t not be, the way the guy’s looking at him.

Jensen thinks about interrupting, but in tight crowd like this, it would be pretty blatant of him—there’s not even anywhere to sit. The guy passes the joint to Jared, fingers brushing over the back of Jared’s hand before he pulls his hand back. Jared flashes the guy a brilliant smile and Jensen turns away, moving off through the crowd.

He goes back to the bar for another drink and leans on the edge of the wood, eyes wandering the room, drawn again and again to the corner where he can just barely see the edge of Jared’s face through the bodies. He finally directs his attention over to a group of people doing shots with Chad, watching them with a vague smile. It’s not like he expects Jared to always be free, and hell, Jensen’s got Justin and…

And why is he even thinking about this?

An hour later, he’s still standing there drinking, mostly wasted and contemplating finding Chad and the bong when someone pushes up beside him through the crowd.

“Hey, Jensen.” Jared looks as amazing as usual, that bright smile on his face, dark blue tank top that sets off the tanned tone of his skin. 

“Hey, Jared.”

Jared leans across the bar and orders a drink, then pulls back next to Jensen again. “How’s your night?”

“The usual,” Jensen sighs, shrugging. “You?”

Jared picks up a cocktail napkin idly from the bar, toying with it while he waits. “Tommy got me stoned as hell swapping roadie stories tonight.”

“Tommy?” Jensen asks, not looking at Jared.

“Big guy, lip ring? We’ve worked a couple shows together.”

Jensen nods. “Yeah, the really hot one. I saw him.”

“Kinda hard to miss,” Jared agrees.

Jensen hesitates before he says, “I thought you two were gonna leave together.”

“Huh?” Jared sounds surprised for a second and then he laughs. “Oh, nah. Not really interested.” 

Jensen has the overwhelming urge to ask why not, but it’s really none of his business. He opens his mouth to change the subject and says, “Why not?” 

Damn, he’s drunker than he’d thought.

“I mean,” Jensen adds, taking a drink. “He _is_ hot.”

“Just…” Jared shrugs, twisting the cocktail napkin between his fingers. The silence draws out between them for a few long seconds, and then Jared goes on, shrugging again. “Hot’s not everything, you know?” He pauses and then reaches for his drink as the bartender hands it off. “Anyway,” he says, stirring the liquid. “What about you and Justin?”

“Nah. Not really interested,” Jensen says with a bitter smile, sipping at his drink.

Jared gives him a crooked grin, and then he shoots back, “Why not? I mean, he _is_ hot.”

“Yeah.” Jensen smirks. “But hot’s not everything.”

Jared nods, still smiling for a moment as he stirs his drink again. His smile fades and he glances over at Jensen. “You guys gonna be okay?”

Jensen thinks about it, turning the words over in his fuzzy brain for a minute or so. “Would you believe me if I told you I don’t even know how to answer that question?”

“Yeah. Sometimes things get so tangled… you just can’t figure out where to start. I know what you mean.”

Jensen turns his face, looking at Jared, and he can see that Jared really _does_ get it.

“Why are you so awesome?” Jensen asks, shaking his head.

Jared laughs, and Jensen could swear Jared’s cheeks flush just the tiniest bit. Jared, who’s been bare assed naked and begging Jensen to fuck him and never so much as blinked, is blushing over a compliment?

“I’m not perfect, trust me.”

“Yeah… me neither,” Jensen nods, thinking. “But I don’t know how to be anybody but me.” His thoughts feel far away and hard to touch, but he can _feel_ them well enough. “Sometimes I wish I did.”

“Why?”

Jensen’s way too drunk to be having this conversation. He’s already said more than he should. But… Jared’s looking at him, so serious and _interested_ and understanding, and just maybe…

Jensen looks away, down into the depths of his drink, ice caught in amber liquid. He feels kind of like what Jared just said about everything being so tangled that he doesn’t know where to begin. Except… that he kind of really does.

_Do you ever get tired of bitching and moaning about everything?_

_Yeah. I’m tired of writing sad songs._

The songs, being onstage tonight… everything between him and Justin…

Yeah. He knows where to begin. He just isn’t sure if he should.

He takes one last sideways glance at Jared, and Jared’s eyes are fixed on him, completely focused, waiting.

“You really care?” Jensen asks, genuinely curious.

“You know I do.”

Jared does. Jensen doesn’t have a motherfucking clue _why_ he does, but he definitely _does_. 

“You mentioned my lyrics once… said… I couldn’t write them if I didn’t feel them.” Jared just nods, and Jensen looks back to his drink.

“You were right.”

Jared leans forward, closer to Jensen, and Jensen can’t—won’t-- _doesn’t_ look up.

“I don’t just write songs…” Jensen starts, hesitating. “I _live_ them, you know? I… put my heart and soul into them… because…” he hesitates again, biting as his lower lip. “Because our songs are… all pieces of me… my whole life and everything in it. I play them every night while we’re on tour, hear them on the radio and at parties when we’re not… and all I can hear… is how fucking _sad_ they are.” Jared is silent next to him, not even moving, and Jensen wants to look, see his face, what he’s thinking, feeling—but he doesn’t quite dare. Isn’t sure he really wants to know. “And… and sometimes… it starts to feel like… that’s all there is. I mean, I get these happy _moments_ … but they never _last_.” 

Jensen takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “And after a while… I start to wonder… Maybe it’s just me? You know? Maybe I’m just one of those people who’s always unhappy, never satisfied, always wanting something more. Maybe… maybe it’s not the music coloring my world… maybe it’s just me coloring the music. I look around at the world and I see other people who seem happy, who get by day to day without their heart breaking in half every other second.” The words tumble out in a rush and he pauses, hitching in a breath, sighing and then shrugging. “And… so I try not to hear the songs, try not to feel them. I play them, and I love playing, as long as I don’t listen to them.”

“And I wonder… is that living? Is that what life is supposed to be? Because I don’t think it is… but maybe that’s just… who I _am_.” He finally turns to look at Jared, hand braced against his cheek. “Maybe it’s all my fault for wanting too much.”

Jared’s face is so sad he looks like he’s about to break into _pieces_. “God, Jensen. Do you feel like that all the time?”

“No.” He takes another breath. “No. Not every second of every day. But it’s like… it’s always there in the background, you know?”

“Yeah.” Jared nods, his jaw working, eyes turning downward, sad at the edges. “Yeah, I know.” Jared reaches across the bar, settles his fingers against Jensen’s wrist, just holding him. “I just… didn’t know _you_ felt like that.”

“You,” Jensen says, throat closing, swallowing hard. “You’re the happiest thing I have in my life right now.”

Jared leans in, his forehead pushing against Jensen’s, eyes fluttering closed, fingers squeezing around Jensen’s wrist. “I should get you to bed.”

“Justin thinks I have a crush on you… but he’s wrong…” Jensen blinks hard, trying to focus on Jared’s face. “It’s more than a crush.”

Jared’s eyes shut tighter, edges crinkling, and he lifts his face, presses a quick kiss to Jensen’s forehead, mouth lingering there as he breathes out. 

“Jensen…” Jared is shaking, trembling. “Don’t make me fall for you any harder.”

Jensen reaches for him, but his hands aren’t obeying his commands, and he feels Jared’s arm come up under his shoulders, holding him, keeping him on his feet.

Jensen vaguely understands that he’s being half-carried through the crowd, feet stumbling. Dim and far away, he can hear Jared and Mike’s voices, talking in hushed undertones.

It’s the last thing he’s aware of before the world falls away completely.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

The world feels scrambled when Jensen wakes the next morning, scattered bit and pieces of words echoing through his head as he sits up, hands against his face. The last thing he remembers is drinking at the bar and…

There’s a warm body pressed next to him on what feels like a mattress—must be in the hotel room. So, okay; no reason to panic. No reason at all, except…

_Maybe it’s all my fault for wanting too much._

_You’re the happiest thing I have in my life right now._

Except that he was _way_ too drunk and said things he never should have said to _anyone_.

Fuck.

Okay, okay. Not the end of the world. He needs to wash his face, maybe take a shower and have a cup of coffee and then get some perspective, because he really can’t think about these things right now, not with the way his brain is clamoring and clanging with raw hang over.

He pulls his hands from his face.

Justin’s curled in a miserable ball beside him, no blankets covering him, the entire warm width of them wrapped around Jensen’s body like a cocoon.

Justin.

He’s so pretty, even with the dark circles etched underneath his eyes, the slight frown of his brows. His knees are pressed together, curled against his belly, feet almost touching his ass, hands clasped in front of his face, fingertips of one hand reaching out, resting against the mattress now. But Jensen knows that before he sat up, those fingers were stretched out, resting against his shoulder. Just the barest of touches, as close to Jensen as he can be right now without being too far in his space.

Did he stay with Jensen all night? And… how did Jensen get here anyway? Did Jared bring him here? And if Jared did… where did he go, why did he leave?

Too many questions, too many thoughts, and they hurt his head, filling it too full. Or maybe that’s just the hangover.

Okay. He runs his hands over his face again. Yeah. Coffee.

He stumbles to the bathroom first, takes the time to appreciate the fact that he’s naked except for pajama pants; his comfortable gray cotton ones with red ants wearing army helmets printed all over them. His “ants in his pants” pajamas, none of the silk bullshit Mike or Justin would have dressed him in.

Had to be Jared that put him to bed. 

Jensen sighs, bending slightly to turn on the sink faucet, letting the water run cold over his hands for a moment before he cups them together. He closes his eyes, dipping his face into the basin of his hands, squeezing the water against his eyelids, his nose, cascading down his lips and dripping from his chin to the sink. He holds his face for a long time, tempted by the idea to just fall asleep right here.

He almost does; legs twitching, knees giving before he rouses again, pushing his heels against the floor for balance.

Words tumble down the well of his mind, like echoing through a cylinder, catching there and hanging.

_It’s more than a crush._

He breathes deep and lifts his face from the sanctuary of his hands. He sees nothing except his own eyes in the mirror, wide and green, sound of rushing water filling his ears.

No. He didn’t say that. He couldn’t have… could he?

_Don’t make me fall for you any harder._

_any harder--_

The implications behind those two words _alone_.

Not _falling_ for Jensen; already _has_ fallen for him. Begging Jensen not to make him fall any harder, because…

“Jen?” Justin’s standing in the bathroom doorway, eyes sleep befuddled as he runs a hand through his unruly hair. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jensen answers as he turns, nodding quickly. “Yeah, fine.”

“I was…” Justin takes a step closer to Jensen, hand rising hesitantly, thumb catching Jensen’s chin. “I was worried about you. You almost never get that drunk.” Justin’s eyes ask the questions his words don’t quite touch, so dark and concerned.

Jensen swallows hard, unable to speak, and Justin’s eyes go even darker, deeper. “I know things haven’t been right with us lately.”

Jensen leans his hip against the sink, reaching for the faucet and shutting it off, grateful for the excuse to look away. “No,” he whispers. “They really haven’t.”

“I…” Justin’s fingers catch under Jensen’s chin for a moment, stroking there. “I know I’m not always exactly what you want me to be. I wish I… I wish I was.” 

Jensen’s eyes flick up, drawn to Justin’s like magnets.

“It’s like I don’t know how to make you happy anymore, Jen.” Justin’s eyes are sad, pleading. “I feel like I lost it a long time ago and… I wish… I wish you could just _tell_ me what I’m supposed to do. I wish I _knew_ what to do.”

Jensen closes his eyes against Justin’s, heart aching in his chest.

“You know, he brought you to the room, changed your clothes, put you to bed? I didn’t even know until later…I should have _known_ ,” Justin says, voice sharp and breaking. “What’s going on with us… it’s my fault. I know it’s my fault. But what’s going on with you two… I don’t understand it… and it…” Justin says, breath catching in his chest. “It _scares_ me, Jen.”

Heartbeat and breath, and Jensen doesn’t even know how he got here; hidden behind his own eyelids with nothing else for cover.

“Jen… please look at me.”

Jensen does, and he can only look for the span of a few seconds before he reaches out, arms wrapping around Justin’s shoulders and pulling him into a hard hug. He turns his chin against Justin’s neck and just holds him, squeezing tight.

Jensen loves him. _God_ , loves him so much. But he doesn’t have words--just this; silent, tight circle of arms conveying everything he doesn’t know how to say.

Justin’s arms come up around him, holding him just as close, cheek brushing against his.

“You guys gonna be in here all day or what? I need to piss.” Chad’s standing in the open doorway, yawning at them, completely unaware of what’s happening.

“Yeah.” Justin yanks back, hands falling to his side. He gives Jensen one last look before he turns away, pushing past Chad.

“All yours,” Jensen adds as he lets Chad shoulder by, shutting the door behind him as he walks out.

Everyone else is awake, packing up between brief bursts of conversation, and Justin heads for the other side of the room without another word, picking up his bag.

“Hey, Jen,” Mike says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You feeling okay this morning?”

No. Not at _all_.

“Sure. Sure thing.”

“Good deal.” Mike pats his shoulder and Jensen keeps walking, grabs his own backpack and focuses on finding his things.

*

Justin sits perched on the end of the same seat as Jensen, far enough away that two people could fit between them. He doesn’t say anything, just turns sideways and leans his head against glass, eyes watching the scenery tick by. Jensen feels like he should say something, but Chad and Sandy are there, too. They’re arguing over what movie they should put on the widescreen TV mounted up in the corner of the sitting area. Jensen finally cuts in and tells them that _any_ movie would be less annoying than listening to them bicker, and they put in _13 Going on 30_ just to prove him wrong.

“Why do we even _own_ this fucking movie?” Jensen complains.

“Mike’s got a thing for Jennifer Whatsherhorseface.”

“Jennifer Garner,” Sandy says. “I met her last year in LA, when we were recording Painted Jade. She was nice. And she does _not_ have a horseface,” Sandy adds.

That sparks another round of arguing, and Jensen snaps at them both again.

Chad and Sandy share a look and then look back at Jensen. 

“I think after this we should watch ‘50 First Dates’,” Chad says to Sandy.

“And then ‘The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants’,” Sandy agrees.

Jensen sighs, resigning himself to chick flicks the whole way to Memphis.

The hammering in Jensen’s head stops after a few hundred miles and a mouthful of aspirin swallowed with a double espresso. Justin just… stays near him all day, without getting into Jensen’s space. He can barely think, let alone think straight, and his brain spins as endlessly as the wheels on the tour bus, covering the same ground again and again. He finally decides hair of the dog is the answer and breaks out the vodka by early afternoon. Jensen makes himself a screwdriver and then makes one for Justin. He hands it to Justin like a peace offering, and Justin gives him the briefest of smiles as Jensen moves past on the way back to his seat.

“Hey, motherfucker, Chad yells. “Where’s mine?”

“In the kitchen,” Jensen shoots back. “Waiting for you to make it.”

“The way you’re always sucking down my liquor, you can’t even make me a fucking drink?”

“Like you paid for _any_ of it.”

“I’ll do it,” Justin says, heaving himself up from the seat. 

“I take back everything I ever said about you,” Chad yells after him, and Justin flips him off.

When Justin comes back, he’s got a pitcher full of orange juice, vodka and ice. Jensen pulls the table up and out from the floor, locks the base into place and Justin sets the pitcher and two more glasses down.

“We celebrating something?” Mike asks with a raised brow as he walks in from the front of the bus.

“Yeah,” Jensen says, tipping his glass at Mike. “Hangovers.”

Mike thinks about that for a second then shrugs. “I’ll drink to that,” he says, sitting down.

They drink and watch movies for the rest of the trip and for a while things feel bearable.

*

Jensen’s a little drunker than he should be before a show, but they’ve got some time before they have to play. He spends it backstage sitting on the couch alone while Chad and group of people behind him are standing around, talking and getting stoned. Jensen’s not sure where Justin disappeared to, but he’s kind of glad Justin took off for a while. He feels like he can finally think again.

Not that it’s really helping. All he keeps thinking about is Jared, that one sentence Jared had said to him reverberating through his mind again and again. He has no idea what to think, let alone do about it.

“This came in.” Sandy walks up and tosses a newspaper in Jensen’s lap and pauses, dragging on a cigarette. “You should…” She exhales in blue-gray cloud of smoke. “You should read it before Mike does.” With that, she’s gone, hot-pink, cheetah print skirt swishing around her thighs.

Fuck. This can’t be good.

It’s the New York Times, the Entertainment section. He doesn’t have a fucking clue what day it is, but he’d bet the date is within the last couple of days if someone’s sending it to them. He recognizes the picture from CBGB’s, more than three years ago. Justin, leaning his head against Jensen’s, vamping for the camera, Justin’s arm yanking Jensen in, roping him close while Jensen looks down and away.

_“Eight years ago I was beginning to get to get disillusioned with what I was doing and the music industry in general,” says photographer, John Ravine. “I was thinking about doing something else entirely until a friend of mine took me to see this band, T Minus Zero. After the show I just turned round to him and said, ‘I have to do this band.’ It was like, bam, the faith was immediately restored.”_

_Since then, John has been photographing possibly the only true rock’n’roll band of the last decade, and his new book showcases over 120 of his best shots. The book includes pictures from their first ever shoot: “I could see they looked like an iconic band even before they were famous. Every time I clicked the shutter it was like, wow, that’s an amazing moment.”_

_Part of the appeal of the pictures is the way they capture the volatile relationship of the band’s two frontmen. “You’ve got these personalities in the band that kind of thrive off each other, but also have a certain amount of destructive power towards each other. It makes for great art but it’s pretty painful to watch,” says John. “It’s unfortunate for the other people in the band that so much of the attention gets focused on Justin and Jensen, and as a photographer it’s difficult not to be drawn into that because there is such a chaotic chemistry between them. Subconsciously I’m always looking for that great Justin and Jensen shot.”_

Jensen closes his eyes, bites his lower lip. Christ.

_So what does he think of the band’s new album? “I find the album a little difficult to listen to because it’s so honest, and you don’t need a genius IQ to work out what the songs are about,” he says. “Don’t Believe You” still gets me a little bit. If you didn’t know anything about the band, you might think it was about a guy and his girl. But we know it’s not. We know it’s about Justin and Jensen."_

Oh. That’s just. That’s fucking _great_. Jesus fuck.

_So did T Minus Zero really rekindle his passion for music journalism? “I’ve been doing this for 16 years, and this is the first time everything has fired on all cylinders. This is how I always wanted it to be. This is what I dreamed of doing when I was 14.”_

Jared’s totally going to hear about this.

And Mike is gonna be _so_ pissed, especially after the charity benefit incident. 

Jensen crumples the paper in his hands, tosses it on the floor.

“Dude?” Chad asks, leaning over his shoulder.

“You got a fuckin’ joint for me, or what?” Jensen demands, folding his arms over his chest.

Chad just grins and passes him the one in his hand.

*

Mike herds them all to a backstage room after the show, an ‘emergency press meeting’, Mike calls it. 

Chad, Justin, Jensen… where’s…?

“Where the fuck is Sandy?” Mike demands when they get inside.

No one seems to know, and Mike falls down on the couch, letting it go for now.

“Okay, John Ravine’s book, is there anyone who hasn’t read the article yet?” Mike waits a moment, then continues. “We have to get a public statement ready. I’m already working with Samantha on that. In the meantime, we need to get our individual statements ready. The reporters are going to be flocking after this.” Mike is shaking his head, making notes on a clipboard. 

“I don’t want any part of it,” Jensen says turning away and leaning his arm against the wall, forehead falling against his forearm.

“What?” Mike’s voice is sharp as a whip crack, just as confused as he is adamant that; no, Jensen should not be saying this. 

Fuck that.

“I said.” Jensen pauses, gritting his teeth. “Leave me out of it.”

“Jen--”

“I’m tired of it,” he interrupts, not the slightest bit concerned with whatever Mike was about to say. “The lying…” he shakes his head. “The covering up. Having to be so fucking careful all the time.” Jensen takes a deep breath, eyes wide open, not able to focus between his arm and the wall. The words rise up with every bit of diplomacy he’s got left to give, every last heartsick bit. “It eats at my soul, Mike,” he breathes. “I’m done with it.”

Mike doesn’t even hesitate. “Jen. You _have_ to make a statement. This is about the _two_ of you. People are going to be expecting—“

“I don’t give a _fuck_ what people are expecting,” Jensen yells, spinning on Mike, anger surging through him, fast and hot. “Did you go fucking deaf during our show tonight, or am I not being clear enough for you? I’m. Not. Doing. It.”

“Jen, what’s going on? This isn’t like you.”

“No, this _is_ like me—this is _exactly_ like me. For once, this is totally and completely _me_.”

The expression on Mike’s face is something approaching stupefied. Chad’s sitting next to Mike, staring at Jensen, cigarette halfway to his mouth, eyes a little wider than usual. Mike opens his mouth to say something else and Jensen can’t _wait_.

Chad reaches over with his other hand and puts it on Mike’s shoulder. “Dude. Maybe you should lay off.”

Mike’s head snaps to the right, surprised by Chad’s words, and he hesitates, letting them sink in.

“Jen.” Justin’s voice is soft, gentle, quiet. “Are you—“

“No I am not _okay_ ,” Jensen snaps, turning on him. “I haven’t been ‘okay’ in a really long fucking time, and if you’d been paying attention you’d fucking _know_ it. But don’t worry about me. I’m not asking you to go public and destroy your perfect public image. Go ahead, Justin. Go lie to the fucking press, stay between the lines, stick to the plan and do what you’re told—but don’t expect me to do it with you. I’ve fucking _had_ it.”

“That’s not fair, Jen.” Justin’s voice is barely a whisper.

“Yeah, well. What the fuck _is_?”

Justin turns away, arms folded over his chest, biting down against his lower lip.

But Jensen’s just warming up, just getting _started_. He opens his mouth to keep going—and the door to the room flies open.

Everyone stops, turning to look. 

It’s Sandy, encased in pink leather pants and a black vinyl bustier. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Mike demands.

Sandy’s eyes flash dark fire at Mike as she steps into the room. “I was talking to the roadies about my sound for next show and got attacked by reporters about our latest article.” Sandy yanks her head in the direction of the door as Jared steps in behind her, shutting it quickly. “Jared saved me.”

Mike’s eyes flutter closed and he puts a hand to his forehead. “Shit, Sandy, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think—dammit. What about security?”

Jared steps forward, speaking up. “Yeah. They’re right behind us, outside the door. I just cleared the path.” 

There’s a brief silence, and Jared takes a look around at the tense faces in the room and nods. “And now, I’m leaving.”

“Wait up,” Jensen calls, yanking his jacket back on. “Clear me a path, too.”

“Jen, you can’t go out there—“ Mike’s halfway up out of his seat, and Jensen spins, really _wanting_ him to take those last few steps. 

“Whoa.” Jared steps between them, back turned to Jensen as he settles slow hands on Mike’s shoulders. “Dude. If this comes to blows—no offense intended—but I’m not loving your chances.”

“If he loses his temper in front of the reporters,” Mike starts.

“I know how to say ‘no comment’, Mike.” Jensen’s already got his hand on the door, yanking it open, and Jared’s right behind him.

“I better go with him,” Jared says to Mike, sounding almost apologetic. “Between me and security, we’ll get him to the VIP room safely. Don’t worry,” Jared assures.

That’s the last thing Jensen hears as he pushes into the surging throng of people outside to door. There are hands on his shoulders, and he turns.

Jared just pushes past him, body taut and full of grace. There’s security all around them, protective little bubble, but it’s Jared that heads the effort. The crowd roars by in a rush of sound, lights and cameras and a blur of faces shouting meaningless questions. Jensen’s got one hand on Jared’s hip, following him, feeling Jared’s muscles flex and harden under his fingers as Jared pushes people aside. 

Half of security breaks off, shoving back the press—probably pushing them out of the building from what Jensen can see--mouths open and angry, yelling back and forth across their headsets as they shove.

There’s a lone brunette girl that runs into the empty space left behind, breaking ranks. There are two security guards moving for her, but she’s headed straight for Jensen, arms open wide, trying to grab him, and Jensen knows she’s gonna get there before security can do a fucking thing.

Jensen lifts his arm, welcomes her under the curve of his shoulder as she falls against him. Jensen pushes into Jared, carried by the extra weight as he tries to keep his balance.

“Hey there. Enjoy the show?” he asks, prepared to entertain her for the next few seconds before security gets there. His life is weird; he accepted this a long time ago.

Jared stops, turning so fast that they both nearly run into him.

“Sweetie,” Jared chastens, grabbing her by the arm. “Now is _not_ the time.”

And then security has her, tugging her away into the crowd.

“Is it always like this?” Jensen yells at Jared. “Or am I just usually gone by now?”

“You’re usually gone,” Jared confirms, yelling back. “Key card, coming up.”

Jensen yanks the card out of his pocket and hands it to Jared.

They push through a set of double doors, and then, blessedly, they’re deep inside the hallways of the arena. The doors slam shut between them and the rest of the crowd, security holding ground outside. They’re alone in the hallway as far as Jensen can tell, and he laughs, squeezing his fingers around Jared’s waist.

“Wait. Wait,” he breathes, falling back against the wall. He yanks Jared backward with the motion, spinning him around.

Jared stops, catching his breath as he looks down at Jensen. Close; so maddeningly, infuriatingly, close.

Jensen whips out his million-dollar smile, the one he usually saves just for the camera. “You think we’re safe?” he asks, sinking his fingers into the collar of Jared’s jean jacket and pulling him down.

“You are,” Jared breathes.

“Not you?”

Jared’s eyelids flutter, his body standing straight, up and away from Jensen as he breathes in deep. “Not as long as you’re looking at me like that.”

Jensen could say he’s too high, too drunk, too _something_ \--but he feels this deeper than bones, deep enough that he could care fucking less about the consequences. “I don’t know any other way to look at you.”

“Dammit, Jensen.” Jensen feels him weaken, body sinking into Jensen’s. He falls against Jensen, mouths colliding, sweet slip and slide, opening and kissing slow, Jensen’s hands gliding down Jared’s back, to his waist, to his hips, fingers settling into the groove of bone, tugging Jared closer. 

“I promised,” Jared gasps, pulling back, thumbs pushing up under Jensen’s collarbone. “That I’d get you to the VIP room.”

“What if I don’t wanna go?” Jensen asks, tilting his head as he teases.

“Then… I’ve got one hell of a crisis,” Jared laughs, a deep throaty sound as his mouth falls to Jensen’s again.

“You do,” Jensen breathes, biting Jared’s lower lip. “How are you gonna solve it?” he asks, fingers clenching against Jared’s ass, hips grinding into him.

“I’m… gonna… kick your ass… and haul you… to the room,” Jared gasps between slow warm kisses against Jensen’s mouth.

Jensen chuckles into Jared’s mouth, his tongue sliding out, lashing against Jared’s for a brief instant. “No you’re not.”

“No,” Jared whispers, hands and body relaxing against Jensen’s like surrender as he licks across the swell of Jensen’s lower lip. “I’m not.” He nudges his hips against Jensen’s, both of them gasping at the contact, and Jared pulls back, murmuring, “Guess I’ll just have to entice you there some other way.”

“Extra points for creativity,” Jensen offers, grinning lazy and slow, hands running down underneath Jared’s ass.

“If we weren’t in public…” Jared grins back, shaking his head.

“You’d _what_?” Jensen asks, lifting his chin, smirking.

“Come on, you,” Jared laughs, mouth crushing against him one last time before he yanks Jensen away from the wall, walking backwards as he pulls Jensen down the hallway. “If you’re lucky…” Jared breathes, tugging him through the hall, “you’ll find out later.”

“So I have to be lucky, now?”

“Well,” Jared says, corner of his mouth quirking. “Conscious will do.”

“So I have to be _conscious_?” Jensen teases, laughing as he follows in Jared’s footsteps forward.

“No. Not so much… long as I know you’re willing,” Jared whispers.

“Always,” Jensen breathes back, yanking Jared’s hips against him. They both stumble a little, laughing as their mouths collide.

“You,” Jared says, pulling away just enough to speak, fingers of one hand locked through Jensen’s belt loop, other tracing the outline of his mouth. “Are incorrigible.”

“I am,” Jensen agrees with a nod. “And you love it.”

“Mmm… I really _do_ ,” Jared groans, kissing him again.

The double doors at the end of the hall bang open and they pull apart, Jared turning and falling into step alongside Jensen, hands shoving into his pockets. They keep walking, chuckling under their breath the rest of the way to the VIP room.

Jensen doesn’t look back to see who it is; just follows side by side with Jared until Jared grabs the knob and holds the door open for Jensen. Jensen flashes him a smirk from beneath raised brows at the chivalry, and Jared rolls his eyes, smirking back as he falls in behind Jensen, chest pressed to Jensen’s back as he pushes Jensen bodily into the room, door falling closed behind them.

“You really are a fucking beast, aren’t you?” Jensen asks, tossing the words over his shoulder with a grin. He stops walking and shoves his shoulders back against Jared’s chest, Jared huffing out a breath with the motion.

“Don’t make me embarrass you with the manhandling,” Jared laughs, pushing Jensen forward again.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Jensen laughs, too, letting himself be pushed along.

“Not unless you wanted me to,” Jared promises, voice a hot breathy whisper against Jensen’s ear as he settles his hands on Jensen’s waist, steering them towards the bar. Jensen leans his body over the polished wood, ordering both of them a drink, Jared still clinging against his back for an instant before he shifts to the side, one arm still slung around Jensen’s shoulders, bodies pressing side to side, tight together.

Jensen turns his head, glances around the room while they wait for their drinks. He’s got a clear view as Justin walks into the room, the poisonous look he shoots both of them as he spots them at the bar.

Shit.

But Justin keeps walking, turning his face away like he never saw them.

Jensen can see Jared at the corner of his peripheral vision—can tell Jared’s watching Justin, too.

“He doesn’t like me much,” Jared offers.

“No.” Jensen shakes his head, lowering his eyes.

Jared nods. “I kinda picked up on that, once or twice.” Jared’s arm slides from around Jensen’s shoulders as their drinks arrive, Jared pushing up fully beside him. Jared considers his glass for a moment, wrapping his fingers around it before he goes on. “But… truth is… I wouldn’t like me much, either, if I were him.” 

Jensen figures ‘why’ goes without saying.

There’s a moment of silence between them, and then Jensen stirs his drink, considering its contents carefully.

Jensen shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t—he said more than enough last night and he’s still regretting it. And still, somehow, for all his regret, for all his guilt, for all that he _shouldn’t_ \--he can’t stop _wanting_ this; this honesty, this truth between them, this connection.

“Things haven’t been right with me and Justin since the night I talked to you in the woods…” Jensen shakes his head, trying to gather the words, and takes a drink instead. “It’s…” he says, settling his glass against the wood. “It’s not even that I don’t know _how_ to make them right…” he hesitates, biting at his lower lip, wondering how much he’s willing to admit.

All of it. Hell with it. _All_ of it. Why not? Jared’s not gonna judge him.

He takes a deep breath, alcohol still burning a trail down to his stomach. “It’s that I don’t know if I even want to.”

“Nine years, Jared. He’s all I know… and sometimes he’s like a complete stranger to me. And then sometimes, he’s the same guy I fell in love with all those years ago… and… I’m so fucking tired of the whiplash,” he sighs. “All I ever think about is those first few years we were together, how perfect everything was, how in love we were.” He takes another fast drink from his glass.

“All I’ve wanted for years now is to have that back. I’ve believed for years that it’s still there, and any day now, something’s gonna give, something’s gonna change and it’s all gonna spin right back to the way it was.”

“What if it never does?” Jared asks, glancing at him sideways through the curtain of his hair.

“I don’t know,” Jensen sighs as he sets his drink against the bar. “I… I still _love_ him,” Jensen adds, helplessly.

“Of course you do. You always will.”

“You think it’s that hopeless?” Jensen asks, his voice tight.

“No.” Jared gives him a dim smile. “I just meant, no matter what ever happens, you’re always gonna love him. How could you not?”

Jensen thinks about that for a second, and Jared plunges on.

“Look… I’ve been kind of piecing together this picture… from what I’ve seen… and what you’ve told me… and if it all comes together like I think it does…” Jared pauses, tossing back a drink from his glass. “What we talked about last night…” he goes on. “That… it’s…there’s nothing wrong with you.” Jared looks at Jensen, seeming to find his courage, voice steady and certain. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be happy. You _deserve_ to be happy,” Jared assures him. “It’s just…” he chews his lower lip for a split second, “first you have to figure out what you _want_ \--what’s going to _make_ you happy.”

Jensen looks at Jared for a long time before he finally finds his voice. “How do I do that?”

“If I could answer that question… I’d be rich and retired by now,” Jared laughs.

“Thanks for listening to me… about Justin. I know it must be kind of… awkward. I mean, the way you two don’t get along and…” Jensen makes a motion with his hand, wishing he’d never started the sentence and hoping Jared’s going to let him slide on finishing it.

“Yeah, well, I’m not doing it for him.”

“I know. But… how…?” Jensen trails off again and thinks maybe he should just abandon this line of questioning all together because it’s not leading him anywhere that’s less confusing.

Jared clears his throat, answers him anyway. “Because I never had any illusions about any of it,” he says, twirling his glass back and forth between his fingers. “When the tour is over, I’ll be gone.”

The thought hits Jensen, sudden and striking, shock rippling out in waves from his stomach. God. He hadn’t even thought about that.

“So why not just make the best of the time we have?” Jared asks, shrugging.

“Right.” Jensen nods, numbly. Fuck, they’re more than halfway through the tour now. A couple more weeks and…

“So… you two look intense,” Justin says, pushing up between them.

“I was just…” Jared holds up his glass and tilts it back and forth, ice tinkling. “Finishing my drink.”

Justin cocks his head to the side, looking at Jared. “You know, the first time I saw you with him, you couldn’t run away fast enough. And now here you are, all calm and cool. Like maybe you’ve gotten comfortable. Like maybe you think you belong here now.”

“Maybe I do,” Jared shrugs.

“Or maybe you’re just the flavor of the week.”

“Justin,” Jensen hisses, grabbing his arm.

Jared, for his part, seems unperturbed. “Why don’t you ask Jensen? I think his answer might surprise you.”

“See, that’s the thing,” Justin goes on. “Jensen’s not the guy who surprises people. Jensen’s the calm one, the level one. You always know you can count on Jen. At least… Until you came along, and he started breaking rules, sleeping with roadies, seeing you every chance he got. ”

Jared nods and tips his glass up, downing the rest of his drink before he sets the empty glass on the bar. “Maybe you ought to look to that,” Jared says as he rises from his barstool with the politest nod Jensen’s ever seen.

“What do you mean?” Justin asks.

Jared hesitates by the bar. “My dad, there was this saying he had… about all the birds coming home to roost. You know that one, Justin?”

“Never heard of it.”

“You should look it up,” Jared advises, shooting one last smile at Justin before he walks away.

Justin stares after Jared for a long time. “I really don’t get what you like about him.”

“No.” Jensen sighs, turning back to his drink. “You really wouldn’t.”

“I’m trying,” Justin says, voice almost petulant. “But he’s such an _ass_.”

“One of you is,” Jensen comments, snatching his drink from the bar and heading out into the crowd.

*

Jensen hates himself for his parting words afterwards, because he understands—Justin’s got every reason to be upset about Jared. Every right and every reason. For all the casual sex they’ve both had over the years, there’s never been anything like this. Jensen’s been fucking Jared exclusively outside of Justin, and exclusive sex leads to feelings. Everyone in the business knows this.

He’s already hurting Justin and he should stop before he starts hurting Jared, too, if he isn’t already. 

He’s not stupid, he’s not ignorant. He knows what he should do—he just wants there to be another option. Wants to be able to keep things the way they are, and really, what does that say about him?

Nothing good.

*

Jensen gets way too drunk after the show in Atlanta, feeling way better than he should, sitting on the couch next to Jared, the two of them leaning into each other, laughing and talking. If he had to guess, Jared’s at least as drunk as he is. He’s been matching Jensen shot for shot out of the bottle, and he was drinking when Jensen spotted him an hour ago.

Jensen knows it’s probably a bad idea to ask Jared if he wants to go back to the hotel room. He really _shouldn’t_ be doing this with Jared, but he’s drunk, and he _wants_ Jared, so goddamned much. That easy laugh, his body pressed so close against Jensen’s, the way he gets what Jensen’s talking about and _runs_ with it, adding his own thoughts and opinions. 

It’s still pretty early, and Justin’s definitely occupied with the cute dark haired boy across the room. He hasn’t even glanced Jared and Jensen’s way all night.

Jensen leans in, lips brushing against Jared’s ear, his hair tickling Jensen’s nose. He smells _good_ , God, so good, sweat and shampoo, and Jensen wants to eat him alive.

“Come back to the room with me,” he whispers, tongue trailing up the curve of Jared’s ear.

Jared pushes into the touch of Jensen’s tongue, breathing out slow and hard. “And… what if I say no?” Jared teases, shuddering.

“Then I’ll just have to fuck you right here on the couch in front of everyone,” Jensen promises, smiling as he closes his teeth around Jared’s earlobe.

Jared shivers, groaning. “That… could be fun.”

“Yeah?” Jensen asks, swirling his tongue, tracing down the spiral inside Jared’s ear. “You want them to watch me take you, fuck you right here? Show them how much you love it?”

“Fuck,” Jared breathes, weight falling against Jensen so completely. “So hot, Jensen…”

“I would,” Jensen purrs. “But then… we’d probably get interrupted…”

“That’s pretty much the only thing stopping me,” Jared whispers back.

They _go_ Jensen pulling Jared up from the couch and through the crowd, fingers linked together, Jensen only conscious of the feel of Jared’s skin pressed against his, oblivious to the bodies he pushes against on his way to the door.

They barely make it inside the room before they’ve got their hands all over each other, kissing, pulling and tugging at each other, Jensen spinning Jared around and falling with him against the bed.

Jensen eases away from Jared enough to yank his shirt off, Jared’s eyes running over the bare skin.

“God, Jen.”

Jen. The word sounds like honey against his ears.

“You called me Jen.” Jensen rolls them over, his weight on top of Jared.

“Shouldn’t I have?” Jared asks, eyes glazed with heat, confused.

“No. You definitely…” Jensen kisses him, tongue gliding inside Jared’s mouth. “Definitely should. You just… never did before.”

“Just felt right,” Jared gasps, surging up into Jensen’s mouth.

“Everything feels right,” Jensen breathes, arms sliding under Jared’s body. “Always feels right… with me and you. Never feels wrong, even when it should. Like maybe this is the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Shit. Jensen…Don’t…” Jared stops kissing him, shaking his head. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

Jared’s eyes are wide, still glazed. “Because… I can’t… I can’t think this…”

“Means something?” Jensen asks with a hot whisper, tongue gliding up the line of Jared’s pulse, and fuck, Jared feels perfect underneath him, all thick muscle and sinew, hard and needing.

Jared nods, and Jensen bites his chin, body sliding against his, cock dragging inside his jeans against Jared’s.

“What if it does? What if I want it to?”

“What about Justin?”

“Let him get his own,” Jensen says, arms winding around Jared’s shoulders.

“Jensen.” Jared’s hand trembles against his cheek, breathing unsteady, chest shuddering against him. “You are ‘his own’.”

“Maybe,” Jensen whispers. “But I’m sick of it, Jared.” Slowly falling, kissing Jared’s mouth. “Soul sick.” Eyes closing, words given with the barest breath. “And you’re…”

“What?” The word is barely audible, Jared’s eyes intense, staring into him.

“The kind of person I want to be passionate about. Someone like _you_.” The words spring from Jensen unbidden and whole, completely without thought. He has long seconds to regret them, Jared’s body stilling against him.

Jared mouth works for a while before he actually manages to form words. “You… you can’t say these kinds of things to me, Jensen.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re in love with someone else. And you’re… you’re not allowed to make me want to believe that maybe--”

Jared breaks off, trembling underneath him, and Jensen feels the need to speak, to fill the silence, cover the awkwardness between them.

“Maybe I _want_ \--”

Jared’s reaction is instantaneous, body stiffening against Jensen’s. “No.” Jared shoves Jensen away, rolling both of them over. “Stop.” Jared pushes from the bed, springing to his feet, face turning to the side as he tries to regain control. “You can’t do this, Jensen. You’re not supposed to do this.”

“What?” Jensen asks, word leaving him with all the breath in his body. “Care about you?”

“No, you’re not. Because all that does… all that does…” Jared folds his arms across his chest, shaking his head. “I never should have let it get this far… never should have done this.”

“Jared.” Jensen stands up from the bed slowly, confused. “I thought…”

“You thought what?” Jared asks, turning on him, eyes angry and hot. “That you could say those things and do anything else but hurt me?” Jared takes a step closer, eyes burning. “Can you?”

Jensen _wants_ to say yes.

Jared is angrier than Jensen’s ever seen him, pulling his shirt back down into place, collecting himself, getting ready to leave.

“That’s what I thought.”

Jared is walking towards the door, stiffer than Jensen’s ever seen him.

“Jared, the way I feel—I haven’t—I never--” Jensen breaks off, tries to track what he wants to say.

Jared whirls on the verge of the tiny entryway to the room. “I _know_ you care about me. I’ve _known that_. For a while now. And if you wanna play this up in your head, make it out like it’s gonna be something more than what it is—go ahead. But don’t try to make me believe it, too.”

Jensen falls into silence, stunned out of whatever he meant to say.

Jared takes a step closer to him, voice still heated. “It’s too hard for me to hear. It’s too hard as it is for me not to wish--” Jared breaks off, backs up that step, then another. “So don’t. Not unless you mean it.”

“You think I don’t know what you’re feeling right now, Jensen?” Jared asks, trying to control his voice as he buckles his belt. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s so easy, this thing with me. I’m new and shiny. It’s _easy_ to look at me and think I’m perfect. But I’m _not_.”

The door opens on the end of Jared’s words. 

_Dammit._

“See,” Justin says, stepping into the room. “That’s what I’ve been thinking all along. Maybe Jen just needs to see you with your perfect polish all roughed up. Think it would make a difference, Jared?”

Jared’s eyes narrow and he folds his arms across his chest as he sizes Justin up. “I think you might be sorry if it didn’t.”

Oh, God. Jared’s _pissed_. Jared’s pissed and Justin’s here and this _is not good_.

“You wanna find out?” Justin asks, slinking closer. “Show him just how perfect you’re not, see what he thinks then?”

“Dammit, Justin.” Jensen starts to move.

Jared stops him, holding up a hand. “I got this.” 

“Jared--”

“Back off, Jensen,” Jared says.

“Fights his own fights,” Justin says, arching a brow at Jensen. “I like that.”

“ _I’m_ ,” Jared says forcefully, moving his face in front of Justin’s before he lowers his voice a notch and goes on. “Right _here_.”

“So you are,” Justin says, looking back at Jared. Justin smile is tight as he raises one hand slowly, fingertips touching Jared’s face, thumb brushing the edge of Jared’s mouth. “And I've been dying to find out what the big deal is about you.”

Jared doesn’t give an inch, looking Justin right in the eye. “Yeah, been wondering what the big deal is about _you_ for a long time now,” he returns, voice level, just an edge of challenge to it.

Jensen’s more than willing to protect Jared from Justin’s vicious barbs, but he’s starting to worry a little bit about Justin now. Justin’s not a small guy, but if Jared decides to go schoolyard… Jensen’s not loving Justin’s chances.

“Really?” Justin asks, stepping closer. His body language goes completely predatory with that step, shoulders rising, and the look he’s giving Jared has _nothing_ to do with fighting. “So tell me, Jared.” Justin’s fingers stroke along the edge of Jared’s cheekbone. “Should I be jealous of you? Because Jensen couldn’t answer me the other day when I asked him.”

“I don’t know. Should you be?” Jared asks, unmoved, arching his brows at Justin.

“ _Not_ answering my question,” Justin says, level and deadly, face tilting, mouth moving closer to Jared’s, Justin’s body pressing close against him. 

Fuck. This shouldn’t be hot. It really shouldn’t.

“Maybe some jealousy would do you good,” Jared breathes, lifting his chin.

“Fuck… You…” Justin whispers, enunciating the words, hot breaths against Jared’s mouth.

“Justin,” Jensen hisses. “Stop it.” Jensen takes a step forward to help Jared--

And stops dead in his tracks as Jared grabs Justin by the hair, yanks and spins him around, crushing Justin against the wall with his weight, staring into Justin’s eyes. “No. Fuck _you_.” 

Or. Maybe Jared doesn’t need Jensen’s help.

Jared’s mouth slams into Justin’s, harsh and angry, their tongues twisting, fighting.

All the breath leaves Jensen’s body as he watches, stunned and frozen. 

“You wanna know what’s so special about me, Justin?” Jared demands as he pulls away from the kiss, words whispered harsh, scant inch from Justin’s lips. His eyes narrow, hands tightening in Justin’s hair. “Well, I’ve been dying to find out just what’s so great about the great Justin Hartley.”

“That’s the spirit.” Justin runs one hand down Jared’s back. “Already in the middle of this, aren’t you, Jared?” Justin asks, fingers flexing in Jared’s hair, words breathed into Jared. “Might as well go for broke.” Justin licks the inside of Jared’s mouth like it tastes like candy. 

“Maybe you should be jealous, Justin. Maybe he’s got actual feelings for me. We do this… I think you’re gonna find out. Make or break, all or nothing. All the birds come home to roost. You ready for that?”

“I’m way past ready.”

Jared grabs Justin’s shirt, spins Justin around and throws him down against the bed. Justin sits up immediately, grabs Jared around the waist and pulls him down.

God. This is… is there even a word for what this is?

They’re grabbing, clutching at each other more like they’re fighting than fucking, Justin yanking Jared down into the kiss, bodies molded together, hips rocking, thrusting with discordant rhythm. Justin grabs Jared by the shoulders, twists him around and over, body landing on top of Jared’s without even breaking the seal of their mouths. Jared’s arching, thrusting against him, fingers digging grooves, curling into Justin’s back through his shirt and yanking like he wants to tear the material apart. Like he’s enjoying it; giving just as good as he’s getting. 

Jensen feels like he should _say_ something, do something, anything. But it’s Jared’s decision, Justin’s, too. He’s got no claims on Jared, and he’s had threesomes with Justin. Morally, he’s got _no_ higher ground. But… he should…

How do you stop a force of nature like this? The two of them, locked together, grasping at each other, clothes ripped away with the sound of straining seams, fingernails searing lines into each other’s skin; long red trails up Justin’s back, down Jared’s sides, both of them hissing, kissing harder, twisting into the feel.

How do you stop this?

They’re the two most beautiful people in the world, and they’re ravaging each other. Justin might be trying to prove a point, but Jensen can see—that’s real _want_ in his dark eyes, and Jared’s just as intense, wants it just as much. Like Jared’s got just as much of a point to prove.

How do you stop this?

And why can’t he decide whether he’s pissed off or turned on?

God. Justin is stripping Jared out of his jeans, quick and furious, and then he’s right back on top of Jared, kissing him violently as Jared’s hands work the buttons on Justin’s pants, opening them, shoving them down over his slim hips as far as they’ll go. Both of them almost naked, Justin’s body molded to Jared’s, the way his shoulder blades rise and fall as he puts his hands all over Jared, the curve of his spine, rising to the swell of his ass, hips grinding against Jared as Jared grinds back with that beautiful body, fingertips squeezing Justin’s ass as their muscles ripple, shoving thrusting.

Jensen takes another step forward, feeling like a man in a dream, everything happening too fast, mind too slow. “Justin…” he whispers, and he’s not sure if he’s asking Justin to stop even though he feels like he should be.

Justin tears his mouth away from Jared’s, turning savage eyes on Jensen. “What, Jen? You wanna join in?” He looks down at Jared, fingers curling in Jared’s hair, other hand running over Jared’s face, cupping him possessively as Justin thrusts his hips against Jared again. “What do you think Jared? He gets to have us both all the time.”

Jared’s voice is ragged, edged with anger and pleasure. “This is between me and you.”

“Maybe he wants us to stop…” Justin’s voice curls on the air, sinuous and teasing. “That what you want, Jen?” Justin’s still looking down at Jared, hips shuddering with another thrust, eyes fluttering, Jared rising to meet him.

“I don’t want you to hurt each other,” Jensen whispers.

“Doesn’t… hurt,” Justin assures, thrusting again to prove his point, both of them gripping each other tight, shuddering with the pleasure of friction between their cocks. “Am I hurting you, Jared?”

“As if,” Jared breathes, sinking his teeth into Justin’s throat and pulling against the skin. 

Jensen’s starting to wonder if maybe he should leave… let them… do this--whatever the fuck this is--because they both obviously want it. Short of physically trying to pull them apart, Jensen doesn’t know what else he can do. He considers it for a split second, and then he thinks about putting his hands on their skin—their naked, sweaty skin, twisting and writhing against each other under his palms—and knows exactly where that would lead.

He should definitely leave. He really, _really_ should definitely leave. But his feet feel rooted to the floor, eyes riveted.

“He’s so hot, isn’t he?” Justin asks, turning Jared’s face to look at Jensen. Jared yanks away, finishes turning his head on his own, body still rubbing against Justin’s, breathing hard. Justin’s looking at him, too, eyes climbing over Jensen’s skin. “That tight body… his chest… and his ass, God,” Justin moans, shuddering. “Tell me how hot he is, Jared,” Justin demands, fingers grabbing Jared under the chin.

“He’s incredibly hot,” Jared breathes, eyes trailing over Jensen’s body. “His mouth…” Jared bites his lower lip, looks back at Justin, “his hands…” Jared groans the words, fingers flexing against Justin’s ass as he pushes up into him, their eyes locked on each other, the words uttered like pure sex. “His cock…” Jared opens his mouth, lower teeth catching under Justin’s chin. “His mind… his heart… the way he uses them all.” Jared lifts his face a little closer to Justin’s, never looking away from Justin’s eyes. “He’s not just hot…” Jared leans even closer… “He’s fucking amazing,” Jared declares, throwing the words like a challenge. 

“In ways you don’t even know,” Justin agrees.

Jared puts a hand on Justin’s face, fingertips digging into Justin’s cheek. “You might be surprised.”

Jensen _can’t_ leave them. He’s still not sure if they’re going to fuck or try to kill each other or _both_. He takes a step back, staggering, and falls into the chair beside the hotel desk.

“He’s enjoying this, you know,” Justin whispers, glancing over at Jensen, sly. “Watching us together. It’s totally turning him on. How could it not? The two people he likes fucking the most finally fucking each other.”

Jensen’s not entirely sure that’s true… then again, it isn’t entirely _untrue_ either, because fucking _Christ_ they’re hot together. But Jensen feels uneasy, uncomfortable in his own skin.

Jared glances sidelong at Jensen, heat in his eyes. “Then we’d better not disappoint him with the show.” 

And then Jensen forgets how to breathe, because Justin’s crouching on all fours, pushing Jared’s legs open and apart, fingers sinking into the muscles of Jared’s thighs. Justin dips his head, tongue flickering out over Jared’s hole, tracing a perfect circle around the rim before he plunges in. Jared hisses, stiffening, fingers grasping at Justin’s shoulders.

“Don’t need you to prep me.”

“Not doing it ‘cause you need it,” Justin replies before he surges, sinks his tongue inside Jared again.

“Don’t _want_ you to--” Jared starts, bites out the words, and then he groans, head tilting back against the bed, all the tension going out of his body. Justin’s _so good_ at what he’s doing right now, Jensen knows that firsthand, knows exactly how it feels, those short, jagged bursts of Justin’s tongue, turning him inside out, curling inside him, teasing at the rim. Jared’s mouth opens, sucking in a breath, fingers tightening, pulling Justin in closer, deeper now instead of away, hips rising to meet him.

Fuck. That is _so hot_. 

Jared’s writhing against the bed, hips shuddering, whole body quivering, eyes falling shut, sinking into the rhythm, breathing out through his mouth. Justin’s making sure Jensen gets a perfect view of his tongue spearing Jared, sinking, twisting, curling, hands spreading Jared’s thighs even further apart. Jared’s grinding against him, muscles of his body flexing, pulling, coiling and releasing as he rides Justin’s tongue, hands rising to grab the back of Justin’s head, rocking into the thrusts. Justin twists his head, does that thing with his tongue that Jensen _knows_ feels like two steps from heaven, Jared’s whole body tightening and _shoving_ against Justin’s face with all his strength, moaning, grinding.

Jensen’s brain shorts out with sheer _hot_. He bites his lower lip, pain of thin skin caught between his teeth, sparks shooting all through him as his head falls back against the seat.

Justin, pulling Jared in tighter, mouth locked around Jared’s rim, jaw working as he fucks Jared deeper, harder. Jared’s holding on to him with a death grip, body sweating, glistening in the low light, pushing back into the thrusts of Justin’s tongue, giving just as hard as he’s getting--and loving the fuck out of it from everything Jensen can see.

Justin pulls his tongue free, licks up the center of Jared, tongue swirling over his balls, tip curling to a hard point, and he licks up the center vein of Jared’s cock like he’s licking a lollipop.

“God, Jensen… his cock…” Justin whispers, voice wrecked. “If you haven’t ridden him yet…” Justin flicks his tongue under the head of Jared’s cock. “You’re missing out,” he breathes, and then seizes the head between his lips. He sucks Jared’s cock with long, slow twists of his head, two fingers pushing inside Jared’s body as his mouth takes Jared all the way to the base. Jared’s hips jerk, shoving deeper into Justin’s mouth, hands making desperate fists against the back of Justin’s head.

Justin pulls back, Jared’s cock shining wet with spit, his lips locked tight around the flushed, red width all the way to the tip, twisting his head, mouth sucking hard at the crown, fingers crooking inside Jared. Jared’s fingers clutch convulsively at the back of Justin’s head.

“Stop showing off…” Jared groans, hips flying up from the bed, pulling Justin’s mouth down his cock at breakneck speed. He grabs Justin by the face, yanks him off his cock just as fast, staring down at him. “And fuck me already.”

“That eager?” Justin asks. Justin flicks his tongue over the slit of Jared’s cock once, defiant, and then he yanks free of Jared’s hold on him, rising to his knees. 

Jensen watches Justin roll the condom on, slick himself—and feels something cold and dark coil in his belly, in complete contrast to the heat and hardness between his legs. This is… weird. And hot. And strange. And conflicting. And hot. And he has no fucking _idea_ why it’s happening or what he’s supposed to feel or do. It’s fucking like fighting, and maybe he ought to be grateful that it’s _this_ instead of them coming to blows, because he really doesn’t love _his_ chances of getting in between _that_. And maybe… maybe this is what they _need_ to do. 

But he can’t help the feeling that he should stop this, right now before it goes any further—before they do permanent damage to… to…

Justin grabs Jared by the shoulders, pulls him onto his cock nice and slow, hips pushing with a grace that carries him all the way to the bottom, teeth sunk deep into his own lower lip. Jared’s gripping Justin just as hard, huge hands wrapped around Justin’s hips, not denying him at all, pulling him deeper, body rising against the feel of Justin’s cock inside him.

Justin’s _inside_ Jared, and it’s so insanely hot, and so incredibly _wrong_. Jensen is filled with a sudden, reckless need to hit Justin—feeling riding neck and neck with the need to wrap his hand around his own cock.

“Mmmm. Jensen, he's so fucking hot.” Justin is running his hands all over Jared’s body as he looks at Jensen. “This huge, hard body... tight fucking ass.” Justin slams his hips into Jared, and Jared groans, pushing up off the bed, hips grinding into Justin. “God, he feels so good, Jen. No wonder you love fucking him so much.” Justin thrusts into Jared again, slow and deep, muscles in his arms quivering. 

“He loves taking it, too, doesn't he? Love getting fucked, don't you Jared?” Justin runs his fingers over Jared's face, way too fucking slow and intimately, pushing his fingers inside Jared's open mouth, fucking Jared harder. “Just look at him, Jen. He's fucking magnificent.”

Jensen has so many emotions swirling inside him he feels like he’s going to burst right out of his skin. But his skin feels hot, too tight, because he's watching Justin fuck Jared, Jared's legs wrapped around Justin, his head thrown back, Justin up on his knees as he thrusts--and Justin's not _wrong_. Jared _is_ taking it, and loving it, and he does look fucking magnificent. 

“Mmm. God. You should take a turn after me, Jen. Everyone should have a turn at this.” Justin leans, grabs Jared's shoulders and holds him while Justin rocks his hips, pumping in and out of him. “So fucking hot, Jared.” Justin falls against Jared, Jared’s mouth rising, devouring Justin’s, tongues clashing as Justin drives into Jared with deep, slow strokes, teasing as he rocks his hips at the edge.

“Is this it?” Jared asks, pulling away from Justin’s mouth. His lips are red, swollen from biting, brutal kisses, eyes on fire, glazed with lust and laced with something deeper, darker, almost angry as he stares at Justin. “Because I was expecting to get _fucked_.” He shoves up into Justin’s cock, body arching, hands grabbing Justin’s ass so hard that Justin gasps. 

Justin bites Jared’s cheek, teeth seizing, and Jared shudders, hissing in a breath, gripping Justin even tighter.

“How does Jensen fuck you, Jared?” Justin whispers against Jared’s face, voice thick and dark as sin. "Is it like this?" Justin asks, looking right into Jared's eyes, changing the rhythm, stomach curling, hips pumping in and out of Jared deep and fast. "Or is it more like this?" he asks, punctuating the question with a snap of his hips, slamming, and Jared shudders, twists underneath Justin.

"Harder," Jared whispers, grabbing Justin by the head and yanking him down. 

"Like it rough, huh?" Justin grins, grabs Jared's arms and pins them over his head with one hand. "Jensen _loves_ that," Justin purrs the words into Jared's mouth. "Loves to fuck hard and rough. No wonder he likes you so much." Justin grabs Jared's chin, shoves his head back, bites Jared's neck and pistons his hips so hard that Jared's body jolts. 

Jared moans long and loud. "Fuck. Harder."

"God, Jen," Justin groans, eyes fluttering as he fucks into Jared again even harder. "He's _fun_." Justin licks a trail up Jared's throat, seizes Jared's lower lip between his teeth and bites down, tugging away hard, and Jared shivers, crying out. "Does he make you beg, Jared, huh? I bet he doesn't." Justin slides his hand up Jared's sweating face, sliding into Jared's hair, fingers grabbing a handful, tugging Jared's head back another notch. "That's okay," Justin whispers, snapping his hips so deep and fast that Jared jolts, moaning. " _I'm_ gonna make you beg," Justin promises, staring right into Jared's eyes as he fucks into Jared again.

“Maybe…” Jared thrusts up into Justin again, gasping, “If you ever shut up and fuck me.”

Justin shakes his head slightly like he can’t believe it, one corner of his mouth rising in a smirk, eyes wondering and impressed. “You really _are_ something, aren’t you?”

“In ways you don’t even know,” Jared agrees, yanking one of his arms free. He wraps it around Justin’s neck and pulls him down into a kiss so vicious that Jensen can hear their teeth click together from here.

It’s like the most beautiful car crash Jensen’s ever seen.

Skidding, careening out of control, tumbling end over end down an endless hill, breaking apart and clinging together. 

The two of them are fucking like they’re going to die if they don’t, biting, tugging, seizing each other, bodies moving in a single, serpentine rhythm. They’re not even paying attention to him anymore, so caught up in each other, fingers fisted in each other’s hair, kissing , hips driving, shuddering hard and jolting as they meet. They tear at each other like lions, strong and proud, skin golden in the light, muscles rippling powerfully under their skin. 

One man can only be expected to endure so much. 

Jensen opens his jeans, slides his hand down inside and strokes himself. God he’s so hard, the feel of his skin against his cock is electric, and he’s so turned on that he knows it’s not going to take him long.

Justin wraps his hand around Jared’s cock and strokes him, rough and squeezing, tugging hard to the top. Hips moving ceaselessly, Justin puts his other hand on Jared’s cheek, turns his face to look at Jensen. Jared’s lower lip catches between his teeth when he sees Jensen with his hand wrapped around his own cock. Justin is stroking Jared harder, faster, and every muscle in Jared’s body is winding up, tensing, tightening as Justin drills into him, hand braced against Jared’s face.

Jensen thrusts into his palm, dragging, dry friction, sharp and sweet, and Jared moans at the sight.

Justin leans down, licks the edge of Jared’s ear and whispers. “Gonna come watching him get off on this, aren’t you? So. Hot.” Justin punctuates the last two words with jagged thrusts of his hips, and Jared arches off the bed. “So close, aren’t you? Ask me, Jared.”

Jared’s forgotten all about the game, eyes locked on Jensen’s as Jensen yanks his wrist, gasps, close to the edge, himself.

“Please.” The word is a bare whisper, Jared’s eyes burning into Jensen.

Jared’s eyes squeeze shut, then fly open wide, still locked on Jensen as he comes, body writhing, cock pumping come all over his belly, Justin riding him furiously, and fuck, it’s so _hot_ \--

That’s it. Jensen comes like a thunderclap, sudden and brutally hard, hips thrusting mindlessly into his hand, shaking and straining as he spills all over himself, hot and wet. Jared’s eyes are glued to him, watching him stripe his stomach with come, still stretching, twisting, coming into Justin’s fist.

God, it’s more than hot. It’s like rapture sweeping through him, the two of them devouring each other with their eyes as they ride it out.

“Jesus, Jared…” Justin gutters out the words, sounding like he’s having a hard time speaking at all. “Came so hard I thought you were gonna crush my cock.”

Jared gives a tiny gasp, cock twitching in Justin’s hand. “Jensen…” he breathes, still trembling with aftershocks, “makes me come harder.”

Justin bites Jared’s cheek viciously hard. “I’m not Jensen,” he snarls.

“No shit,” Jared breathes, twisting his neck violently and crushing his mouth against Justin’s. 

Forget stopping this…

How do you _feel_ about this?

No, really. How do you _feel_ about this? Because, _Christ_ , they’re so gorgeous together. Mouths melded, slick hot kisses, thrusts of tongues, bodies bare and arcing like the flickering of a candle flame, both of them giving as hard as they’re getting. They _both_ want it, no matter how violent and spiteful it might be… and Jensen doesn’t know… what he’s supposed to do about it. _How_ he’s supposed to feel, because, god dammit, he… he loves—

The world goes on outside of him, Justin fucking Jared like he’s trying to shove him through the bed, bodies joined together in the most beautiful architecture Jensen’s ever seen, fluid and moving, perfect and fucking _gorgeous_.

“My turn,” Jared whispers and pushes Justin off his chest until Justin’s balanced on his knees, and then he grabs Justin by the hips. He holds Justin there and rides him hard from the bottom, legs wrapped around Justin’s waist, pure strength pulling him from the bed. Jared’s hips drive up and into Justin with little twists before he yanks away again, again and again, faster and harder until he’s pounding against Justin’s cock mercilessly. Until Justin goes completely still, arms shaking, mouth open in surprised pleasure.

“Fuck. Jared. God.”

Seconds tick by watching them with wide eyes. It happens in slow motion; like he’s standing outside of time.

No wonder it hurts. No wonder he’s been so turned on he felt like he was going to explode.

He… _loves_ Jared.

He loves them both.

He loves them both and they’re _so_ beautiful, everything Jensen could ever imagine wanting, melded together. They’re perfection.

And he’s watching them fuck like they’re trying to fuck each other out of existence. 

“Fuck, Jared. Feels… so fucking… good…gonna--” Justin shudders, hips stuttering.

“I know,” Jared breathes and fucks him even harder. Justin’s fingers slide down Jared’s thighs, landing on his stomach, grabbing for purchase, completely losing control, and Jared rises on Justin’s cock with sharp a thrust, holding there. Justin’s fingers tighten against Jared’s stomach as he comes, head snapping back, hips driving forward, burying his cock even deeper. Jared’s rocking, twisting his hips, whole body taut as he milks Justin for all he’s worth.

God, it’s hot and it hurts, aches in every way possible, so much, too much… he doesn’t even _know_ what this feeling is inside of him. It’s so many things he can’t even begin to pull them apart.

Jared’s riding Justin out through the end of his orgasm, until Justin finally yanks Jared’s hands from his hips and falls down against him.

“You find out what you wanted to know?” Jared asks, breathing hard.

Justin nods, running a thumb over Jared’s lower lip, mouth following behind with a light brush. He stops then, looks Jared right in the eye, tiny bead of sweat dripping from the end of his nose. “I should…” he pauses, between fast breaths, “definitely… be jealous.”

Justin turns his head to look at Jensen, like he’s confirming it.

There’s not a goddamned thing Jensen can say.

Justin’s still splayed naked against Jared, both of them sweating, messy with come, and Jensen’s torn between yanking them apart and taking a turn with both of them.

He tucks himself into his jeans and zips up, getting to his feet. He’s out the door before Justin can do more than call his name and he really shouldn’t leave them both, not like this—but he just… really can’t deal with this right now.

God _dammit_.

He couldn’t have picked a worse time to figure this out.

*

Jensen walks through the next day like a zombie, going through the motions, only speaking when he has to. Chad and Sandy are distant shadows, hovering at the edges of his world, flitting in and out of his life. Justin’s even more distant, letting the silence grow between them until it’s all Jensen can hear.

The hours on the road give him entirely too much time to think, white lines flying by as he goes back over every moment and word. He thinks it started the very first time they’d met, the way Jared had looked, the way he’d been so honest. He thinks of Jared, sitting on the end of the bed and talking about family, how surprised Jensen had been, how much he’d believed. He thinks about how he broke his own rules to pursue Jared, how much Jensen had wanted him… and then, finally buried inside him, Jared, touching Jensen’s face and telling Jensen he was the real thing.

He should have known—should have realized, then. He thinks some part of him did and just didn’t want to recognize it, or else he’d have had to stop seeing Jared.

Yeah, because having to stop seeing him _now_ is better.

It’s not like they can go on like they were… not with Jensen knowing he’s… God… it’s still so strange realize that he’s in _love_ with Jared. It’s still so new, and it aches like an arrow through his heart, blood still pumping around the wound. 

He’s in love with Jared, and he’s been in love with Justin for a lifetime. There’s no question about what he needs to do. 

His whole life is here, on this bus, the people it carries, the places it takes them. Justin, Chad, Sandy, Jeff, Mike—they’ve all been with him for years. 

Sunset brings them to Tampa, and the sky is painted orange, gold, and pink, fading into indigo.

It could be black and white for all Jensen cares.

*

He plays without thinking, without hearing, instinct carrying him through every song and not a note of it touches his soul. The crowd cheers, and the world thunders, and he’s sweating under the spotlight. It’s just another show.

The sight of Jared waiting for him backstage hits him like a fist to the gut, and he takes a deep breath. 

“Hey,” Jared says softly, eyes glancing over Jensen’s, like he’s too nervous to let them stay there.

“Hey.”

“Jensen…” Jared fidgets for a few seconds, chewing at the underside of his lip. “I’m sorry.”

Whatever Jensen was expecting, it wasn’t that. It takes a few moments for the words to sink in. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m not mad.” He’s _not_ angry. Jensen’s never been the jealous type, never been the possessive type. Sex is sex. It’s not the sex he can’t deal with… it was watching two people he loves try to hurt each other. It’s the understanding of how he feels. 

“I was upset. I let my feelings get the best of me. I thought if you saw us together… maybe that would help you realize…” Jared’s hands twist in his pockets as he trails off. 

“It did.” Jensen averts his eyes. “I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of everything. I never should have let that happen.” 

“I made my own choices.”

“I know.” Jensen’s voice is hoarse, can’t feel anything but numb as he speaks. “So did I.” 

“I know all I did was probably make things worse between you and Justin, and I never should have let it get that far. I know you’re together… I shouldn’t have interfered. And… I’m not going to, anymore.”

Jensen is in love with both of them, and he can’t drag Jared any further into this whole mess. Jared deserves way better than Jensen can offer him. The last thing he wants is to stop seeing Jared, but he knows damned well that he needs to let Jared walk away before Jared gets hurt any worse than he already has. “Jared--” 

“Jensen.” Jared is shaking his head, face drawn, eyes sad. “Don’t. I just wanted to let you know.”

Jensen nods dumbly, feeling far away, outside himself.

“Well,” Jared says softly. “Guess I’ll see you.”

Jensen watches him turn and walk away, eyes blurring as Jared rounds the corner and disappears.

*

Chad catches up with Jensen in the VIP room, bottle in hand, two shot glasses caught between his fingers. “Hey Jenny. You okay? You seem a little…”

“No. I’m not okay.” Jensen plucks a shot glass from Chad’s fingers and holds it out for Chad to fill.

“Anything you wanna talk about?” 

Jensen’s eyes are fixed on the shot glass, watching the golden liquid splash and bubble. “Nope.”

Chad fills his own glass, clinks it against Jensen’s and starts to say something. Then he just shrugs and tilts his head back, swallowing. They do shots until they can’t stand up anymore and then collapse on the couch. Chad doesn’t ask anything else and they don’t talk about it; don’t talk about anything, handing the bong back and forth until Jensen finally passes out.

Jared never does show up.

*

Tampa, Miami, Jacksonville. Jensen doesn’t see Jared through the whole state of Florida. He’s just… nowhere to be found. Not at the parties, not backstage after the show. Much as it hurts, Jensen thinks it’s probably just as well… he has no idea what he’d say.

It’s… probably easier for both of them this way.

So why doesn’t it _feel_ easier?

*

The morning sky is dull gray outside the hotel window in Charleston, dark clouds threatening rain. Jensen sits in the wooden chair by the desk, hand running over his face as he stares down at the city spread out below, buildings and streets just as drab as the skies above.

Justin’s hung over, bleary-eyed and pale as he pulls up a chair alongside Jensen. Justin rubs at his face, runs a hand through his ragged hair and blinks a few times before he settles his chin in his hands, looking sideways at Jensen.

“You ever gonna talk to me again, Jen?” he asks.

Jensen doesn’t say anything, just folds his hands and looks at Justin.

Justin nods and pulls his chin from his hands. “It’s been five days…” he says softly, picking at the bracelet on his wrist. It’s a ragged, old woven thing, threads of green, yellow and black faded after all these years, fraying at the edges. Jensen still remembers making it on a summer day between ninth and tenth grade, colors vividly bright, fingers moving carefully, tying knots, trying to get the diamond pattern just right. A friendship bracelet, he’d called it, and Justin had smiled, held out his wrist and let Jensen tie it on. It’s been there ever since, slowly tattering, unraveling with age, so much a part of Justin that Jensen stopped noticing it a long time ago.

The knots on the underside of Justin’s wrist have been tied and retied over the years, threads stretching desperately thin where they’ve snapped in the past, barely anything left to hold on to. He wonders how many times Justin’s retied it, what he’d thought about when he did it. 

Justin sighs out through his nose, yanks his hand away from the bracelet and ducks his head, rubbing his brow. “He caught me after the show last night. You know what he said to me? After all that?”

Jensen pauses long enough to wonder if he really wants to know, but it’s not like he could help himself, even if he wanted to. “What?”

“He said…” Justin shakes his head, chuckles without humor. “He said… that he never meant to get in the middle of us.” Justin takes a deep breath. “He said he knew we’d been together a long time, and that you never promised him anything… that he never expected anything.” Justin hesitates for a long time over the next words, pushing a loose fist against his mouth, teeth worrying the skin of his middle knuckle, kneading it between his teeth again and again. He finally tears his hand away, words leaving him haltingly as he stares down at the floor, not seeing anything at all. “And then he said… that what he did…” Justin runs his fingertips up the bridge of his nose. “Was a mistake. Because all he did was make it worse for you and me.” Justin nods, head rocking slowly up and down, almost unconscious of the movement. “And then he…” Justin stops, shakes his head, biting his lower lip like he can’t believe what he’s about to say. “And then he apologized to me.” Justin frowns and turns his face to look at Jensen, bewildered, mouth working for a moment before he goes on. “Do you believe that?”

Jensen nods slowly, jaw clenching. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Justin nods, too, and then looks away. He dips his forehead into his hands and covers his eyes. “I believed him, too.”

*

It’s after the next show, in Charlotte, North Carolina when Jensen finally sees Jared again. He’s on his way to the backstage bathroom, still sweaty from the stage when he pushes open the door and—

Jared is against the wall, weight of a pretty guy with dark blond hair holding him there. Jared’s eyes, closed, his arms wrapped around the guy’s broad shoulders, pretty pink mouth joined to his, their tongues circling, suckling. Rough hand, running down Jared’s waist, sliding around to the small of his back, fingers hugging the curve of Jared’s ass, shoving into the back pockets of his jeans and _tugging_. Other hand pulling Jared’s head, yanking at the long strands of his hair, and Jared’s knees give against the pressure, head falling back, body sliding down the wall until the guy is kissing down into his mouth, hands holding him tight, possessive, hips rolling together.

No. This…

Jensen can’t think, can’t move; a boy frozen in a doorway, wanting things he can never have.

Jared moans, sound echoing off the tile walls, clattering through Jensen’s head. 

His fingers twitch, shoulder still pressed against the door. He knows… he _knows_ that sound. 

Jensen turns around, sucks in a breath and then _moves_ , down the hallway and gone, door banging shut behind him in the distance.

*

The hotel room is dark except for the dim light of the lamp on the night table.

Jensen tips the bottle up, takes a long drink. The whiskey doesn’t even burn anymore, shouldn’t, after this many drinks.

He’s alone. The party’s in the VIP room tonight, and it’s way too early for anyone else to be here.

There’s a picture in his hand of two boys he barely recognizes; one with white blond hair, smiling, shining, the other not quite as bright, smile more subdued, one arm and both eyes locked on the brilliantly smiling boy in the foreground.

They’re fifteen, one of them what _is_ , and the other one full of hope for what _will be_. 

He remembers coming home… seventeen and way too high after a party, head filled with a whole night of watching Justin make out with Jason Hancomb. How he’d held this photograph in his hand, not understanding what Justin saw in Jason that Jensen didn’t have. How he’d wanted to destroy it; set it on fire and watch the trash can fill with flames licking up its metal insides.

He’d dropped it on the floor, instead, fallen into the embrace of his pillow and left the picture for another day.

Life is moving on. Life is _happening_ , unfolding all around him, and he… 

He’s standing still, hoping it will change.

He’s been standing still since he was in middle school. Since the first time he’d laid eyes on the beautiful boy in his history class, two rows over and three seats back, knowing smile curving right back at Jensen. 

He’s still there. He’s _always_ been there, lost in the depths of those dark brown eyes. 

He is thirteen, seeing Justin for the very first time—he is seventeen, dropping the picture on his bedroom floor--he is eighteen, kissing Justin for the first time in the hotel in Poughkeepsie, all his dreams coming true--he is twenty-seven, pushing Jared against the wall in a backstage office in LA, full of want and need, with no idea of what’s to come.

Every moment, every image, frozen, patterns of snowflakes melted perfectly into memory.

He thinks of Justin, the taste of strawberries when they’d kissed for the first time, the feel of his skin, glitter and smoothness under Jensen’s hands.

Ten years later, with this picture still in his hand.

He drops it on the floor and takes another drink.

*

He spends the next night in the hotel room alone, too. Mike’s worried about him. They’re _all_ worried about him, but he’s not talking about it and as long as he’s not hurting himself or getting out of control, there really isn’t much any of them can say.

They played Richmond, Virginia tonight. Only five dates left in the tour.

Life is moving on.

Tucked away in the back of his notebook, between the last page and the cardboard, there’s a fragment of a brown paper bag, surface crinkled and spread smooth again, words written in ink, tiny circles of grease stains interrupting the smooth flow. It’s written on front to back, tiny text crammed into the space. He tugs it free and sets it on his lap.

_Every time we do this  
I fall for you  
Wave after wave after wave  
it's all for you  
I know this can't be wrong   
as long as I know that you know  
that today I belong  
right here with you  
right here with you..._

_We watch the sun come up  
from the edge of the deep green sea  
and you listen like your head's on fire  
like you want to believe in me.  
So I try  
put your hands in the sky  
surrender,   
remember,   
we'll be here forever  
and we'll never say goodbye..._

_and all I want is to keep it like this  
you and me alone  
a secret kiss  
don't go home  
don't go away  
don't let this end  
please stay  
not just for today…_

_Never never never never never let me go you say  
hold me like this for a hundred thousand million days  
but suddenly you slow  
look down at my breaking face  
Why do you cry? What did I say?  
But it's just rain, I smile,   
brushing my tears away..._

He looks at the page he’d written last; the one Sandy had liked. He tears it from the notebook, page ripping away, paper crumpled between his fingers, clenched into the ball of his fist. There’s nothing left to mark its passing except the shreds of paper clinging to the spiral. He pulls them free, piece by piece, until they join the paper crushed in the palm of his hand. He tosses them all into the trashcan.

He sits there for a while, mind a blank slate as he stares at the trash can, not truly seeing it at all. He draws a hand across his face and turns away, fingers pressed to his mouth until he feels like he can breathe again.

When he can, he sets his pen to the fresh page with a shaky breath, and begins to write.

The words don’t come easy; throat dry and tight, eyes stinging, but there’s that burning inside him, like there always is when it’s right.

_I wish I could just stop  
I know another moment will break my heart  
too many tears  
too many times  
too many years I've cried over you._

It cuts him to the bone. Double-edged sword and there’s this aching in his heart, beautiful and sad and utterly desolate. His hand falls back to the page, brain to hand to paper, words passing through him like he’s a vessel.

_How much more can we use it up?  
Drink it dry?  
Take this drug?  
Looking for something forever gone  
but something we will always want?_

_I wish I could just stop  
I know another moment will break my heart  
too many tears  
too many times  
too many years I've cried for you  
It's always the same  
wake up in the rain  
head in pain  
hung in shame  
a different name  
same old game  
love in vain  
and miles and miles and miles and miles and miles  
away from home again..._

He finishes, last ellipses drawn out slow.

He tries to read through what he’s written, but he gets halfway and he… he can’t. God. He _can’t_. He needs another drink, another soul, another mind. Anything but this; this love like cancer eating at him from the inside out.

_How much more can we use it up?  
Drink it dry?  
Take this drug?_

He grabs the bottle from the table and tips it back, swallowing until it burns, corners of his eyes leaking, choking around each breath. He drinks until the bottle is empty, whiskey dribbling down his chin.

Sleep rolls in like the ocean waves, mind fading from awareness to dreaming without understanding. 

*

They’re onstage, Justin singing his heart out, Jensen struggling to keep up on guitar. It’s a new song, and he hasn’t practiced it enough. The lights keep getting in his eyes, and he can’t see anything except Justin standing at the front of the stage, singing into the mic.

Jensen’s fingers stumble over a chord, and Justin turns on him. Justin’s hair is longer than it’s ever been; darker, falling forward to cover one of his eyes. His features, blend, shift for a moment into someone else—someone familiar and distant that Jensen can’t quite place. He keeps trying to play, but he’s lost his pick, fingers throbbing, beginning to bleed as he strums the strings.

Justin steps closer to him, face still blurred, and he’s Justin and he’s someone else, but he’s still the same person Jensen’s always loved with all his heart. 

Justin keeps singing, stepping closer and closer, but Jensen has to find his pick, and surely it’s somewhere over by the amps, has to be. He turns, getting down on all fours, crawling over the wires and tracing them out. So tangled, so many, and he can’t sort them out. But Justin’s getting closer and he has to find it, because if he doesn’t then Justin will have to stop singing and then he’ll—

It’s not there. It’s not anywhere. Jagged sound of his guitar reverberating into silence, discordant note that fades.

Jensen can _feel_ Justin creeping up behind him, frozen on his hands and knees, looking for an answer that won’t come.

A hand falls on his shoulder, and he bears it with knowing, rising up onto his knees.

He doesn’t want to turn around, he doesn’t want to turn around, but it’s Justin and he has to—

Everything is silent as he turns.

Justin’s face is sunken, dark circles fading to purple around his eye sockets, dark orbs (orb) staring out at Jensen. Lips dried and curled into a sneer against his yellowing teeth, and the skin across his forehead is coming loose, peeling away from the bone in shades of purple, green and black. His hair is blond (his hair is brown), dull, dry patches drifting away from the distinct shape of his skull. Skin so thin and cold, skeletal fingers brushing Jensen’s face, and he’s drawn in, can’t pull away.

There’s a hole in Justin’s cheek, tiny maggot squirming there, and Justin pulls him even closer, smell of rotten meat filling Jensen’s lungs.

Justin’s tongue is still whole enough to speak, and Jensen can see it, black and swollen behind the gap of his teeth as the words push out. 

“Both of us knew how the end always is.”

Justin leans to kiss him with rotting lips and Jensen gasps awake, sitting bolt upright, body sheathed in cold sweat, heart hammering in his chest. 

A dream—just a dream, he tries to tell his body, brain way ahead of his automatic responses. The sun is shining in through the hotel window, and it’s a beautiful day.

It clicks, then; who Justin had looked like in his dream. All the breath leaves him, heart speeding up again as he’s pulled right back into the wreckage of his subconscious.

Milo.

_Both of us knew how the end always is_

_\--the end--_

The notebook has fallen to the floor, and Jensen reaches down, picks it up. He looks at the words written on it, ink smearing and paper warped with wetness.

Jensen runs a hand through his hair. God. He’s so tired of this. He…

He doesn’t want to touch Justin, can hardly even look at him. Jensen doesn’t even know what the hell he’s doing here, anymore.

Such simple thoughts—how can they cause him so much pain?

But then, all everything does is hurt, every second, every hour of every day. He feels the sadness settle in around his heart, familiar cloak that offers no comfort.

_All I’ve wanted for years now is to have that back. I’ve believed for years that it’s still there, and any day now, something’s gonna give, something’s gonna change and it’s all gonna spin right back to the way it was._

_What if it never does?_

He gets up, notebook in hand and walks to the window, resting his arm over his head against the glass. Cars glide by on the streets below, people walking, talking, moving in and out of stores, buying food from street corner vendors. Just people living their lives, as separate from him as if this glass were a brick wall.

_What if it never does?_

The words echo, turning over and over inside the hung over hollows of his mind.

_\--Both of us knew how the end always is--_

*

By noon, the world feels surreal and somehow far away, like he’s standing outside looking at a washed out painting of himself. There’s been this quiet restlessness lurking beneath the surface all morning, though, undeniable and unquantifiable. 

He sits in the seat and watches gray clouds drift by against the slate background of sky, notebook still open on his lap. Sometimes he looks down at the words written there, but they never change. They don’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know. Still, there’s something there, something chipping away at the edges of his alcohol dulled awareness, mystery locked inside the letters on the page.

Washington, DC; another city, another show. Jensen doesn’t feel it—can’t. Not even with Justin pushing him to react, picking every song from their past, good and bad. Jensen does what he has to do, plays the notes and hits the pedals, and then he gets the hell off the stage.

Jensen passes off his guitar to security and walks through the halls until he reaches the streets, security gathered around him in a tight knot. Cars rush by in streaks of gold and red light, monuments and memorials rising above the low cityscape, lit from beneath in perfect shadow and light that showcases their architecture. There’s so much history here, a reminder of everything this country was built on stemming from these iconic images. It’s beautiful. At least—he thinks it _should_ be. But he can’t help thinking that it’s not just the symbolism of everything that’s best in this country—it’s also the symbolism of everything that’s worst. Sometimes, history does more harm than good.

The air is warm, muggy and humid, almost clinging against his skin. Summer will be here soon, the air promises. 

Summer again. It’s just another turn of the seasons. It used to mean something to him once; the feel that only summer has, the quality of the light and the air, the magical nights where anything seems possible. So much of his time remembered in summer, afternoons and nights on the dock in Albany, taste of peach cobbler still clinging under the taste of marijuana, the feel of Justin beside him as they’d stared at the sunset until the moon rose. He remembers how school fell away, how time fell away, nothing between them but air and the distance Jensen could never seem to breach. How he’d prayed to the moon for Justin to look at him in just that certain way, to lean over and kiss him, finally free him from this aching want. How Justin never did—not until that summer night in Poughkeepsie after they’d left school forever, right on the cusp of leaving that dock and their whole lives behind.

It used to mean something, once. It used to mean everything. Why doesn’t it now? 

He used to believe he’d always feel that way; on fire, alive right down to the core of his soul. It seems grossly unfair that he’s lost that hope, that belief—that _passion_.

As the cars stop for the streetlight, he crosses the street from the Verizon Center arena to the Hilton, security following.

Maybe this is what it means to grow older. The years take their toll, wear you down until you’re empty and aching, left with nothing but wishing for the past. Wishing you could find the magic and hope in a warm almost-summer night.

Maybe that’s just the way life is.

Maybe he’s walked too long in these shoes, soles and soul worn thin.

He’s almost to the hotel room, security falling back as he walks down the hall. Someone moves up behind him, hand closing on his shoulder.

“Jen.”

Jensen stops walking, slowly turns. He couldn’t ignore that voice—that touch—if he tried.

He’s still so beautiful. Justin will always be beautiful to Jensen. Those brown eyes, the dark circles like smudges underneath them. They’re so much like the eyes in his dream.

The Cautionary Tale of Milo. 

Justin looks at Jensen for a long time, like he’s trying to find the words to begin, and Jensen lets him hang there, twisting in the wind. Jensen doesn’t know how to rescue him.

“You don’t come to the parties anymore, you barely eat, hardly speak, spend most of your time in your bunk or alone in the hotel. Even when you’re with me… you’re somewhere else.” Justin shakes his head, biting at his lower lip. “What’s going _on_ , Jen?”

Jensen leans his shoulders back against the wall, shaking his head as he tries to understand the vast gap between them. “Don’t you know?” 

“Jared,” Justin says, word leaving him with soft conviction. “But I don’t…” Justin runs a hand through his sweaty hair, face turning into the grip of his own hand. “Why is it so…?” He tugs at the ends of his hair and releases, hand falling to his side as his head tilts to look at Jensen. “I mean… it’s not like you expected… any more than what it was. Right?”

Jensen doesn’t feel the warmth of the night clinging to his skin anymore; all he can feel is the barren stretch of winter, cold and empty. He doesn’t have an answer for Justin, filled with bittersweet wishes that he did—oh yeah, there’s part of him that wishes more than anything that he did. 

Jensen can see the moment of Justin’s realization, sudden and transforming; watches understanding bloom in the lines of his forehead, the slackness of his mouth, the pain in his eyes.

Jensen remembers splintered wood beneath his back; tiny shards digging through the thin cover of his t-shirt, damp and half-sweated through from the summertime humidity, taste of peaches and the feel of Justin’s hip next to his. 

“Oh, God.” Justin’s whole face breaks; lines cracking, running together. “Fuck, Jen,” he whispers, voice shaking, eyes filling with a sadness Jensen can’t stand to see. “I didn’t… I really didn’t think…” Justin breaks off, turns away, wiping at his face. “Do you… Jesus, Jen… do you love him?”

The way their arms had occasionally brushed, both of them sweating, each moment, every barest touch filled with so much meaning. Charged with electricity, perfection of the summer moon shining down, all their hopes and dreams still ahead of them. 

“I _said_ ,” Justin hisses, spinning on him. “Do you. _Love_ him?”

Pain drips from his voice, running like blood over these houses made of history.

“Yes.” Jensen breathes the word, watches it sink into Justin’s heart like the worst kind of betrayal.

Justin covers his face with one hand, fingers rubbing across his brow. “Fuck,” he gasps. His hand lashes out, fist striking the wall above Jensen’s shoulder. Justin’s eyes are ancient, brimming with tears. Every line in his face is etched deep with pain and betrayal. 

“You weren’t supposed to fall in love with him,” Justin decrees, tears spilling over.

His tears are almost pretty, sparkling like diamonds against his cheek, each one cutting Jensen’s heart like sharp edges of stone.

Jensen puts his thumbs against them, wipes them into the landscape of Justin’s skin.

“No.” Justin breaks off, pulling away. “No… you don’t…” Justin pulls his arms against his chest, holds them tight, whole body shaking. “You don’t… get to comfort me.”

“I’m sorry.” Jensen knows the words are meaningless; insult added to injury.

Justin tilts his head back, eyes closing, whole face squeezing together in an expression of pain, fingers clenching against his own forearms. His cheeks are still wet, and it seems like Jensen should do something about that, but he doesn’t know what. Those tears, that sadness, it’s all for him, for those two boys on a dock eleven years ago.

Those two boys who have been and gone—all their hopes and dreams left behind them in dust. 

Justin’s face falls forward, eyes opening. “You’re sure?” his voice cracks over the words, and it breaks Jensen’s heart to hear it. He understands everything implicit in that voice, every single syllable and the tones catching around them.

It’s finality.

“If I was… this would be a lot easier,” Jensen whispers, eyes filling with sudden emotion.

“Jensen. No.” Justin’s forehead crashes into his, pushing the back of Jensen’s head against the wall. Hands on his shoulders, fingers kneading, pleading. “Please.” Word whispered out like everything—like the _whole world_ depends on it.

He is seventeen, dropping the picture to the floor—he is seventeen, his body laid out alongside everything he’s ever wanted against wooden planks beneath the summer moon; he is twenty-seven, dropping the picture to the floor—he is twenty-seven, everything he wants tied up in anonymous rooms and rooftops with lean muscles and shaggy dark hair and deep brown eyes, so close yet so far away.

He is twenty-seven, and life is moving on. 

He is twenty-seven, and he is saying _goodbye_.

It’s wrong. Wrong and so, so right. World turned inside out and upside down, and he isn’t even sure he knew this was coming except for how some part of him always did. Truth finally falling into line; clicking into place behind the breaking of his heart.

“I’m sorry.” Words whispered out, ineffectual against Justin’s cheek, hands squeezing.

Justin tears from him savagely, body stiff and taut, face crumpling. Jensen’s chest aches, every nerve in his body screaming to pull Justin back, to wrap his arms around Justin and comfort him, take this pain away.

But this pain, this utterly shattering heartbreak—it’s all for him. All _because_ of him.

He is twenty-seven and he is watching Justin walk away from him for the very last time.

*

An hour and half a bottle of whiskey later, and Jensen still doesn’t know where to go, what to do. He feels like he should tell someone. Maybe Mike, or Chad, or Sandy. All of them. But it doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real. He thinks maybe it hasn’t hit him, yet, what’s happened. 

There are new words on the page in front of him. He doesn’t feel them, yet, either. But he understands them. He can even hear the guitar behind them, notes playing out to the words inside his head.

_Fool enough to almost be it  
Cool enough to not quite see it  
Doomed  
Pick your pockets full of sorrow  
And run away with me tomorrow  
June _

_We'll try and ease the pain  
But somehow we'll feel the same  
Well, no one knows  
Where our secrets go_

_I send a heart to all my dearies  
When your life is so, so dreary  
Dream  
I'm rumored to the straight and narrow  
While the harlots of my perils  
Scream_

_And I fail  
But when I can, I will  
Try to understand  
That when I can, I will_

_Mother weep the years I'm missing  
All our time can't be given  
Back  
Shut my mouth and strike the demons  
That cursed you and your reasons  
Out of hand and out of season  
Out of love and out of feeling  
So bad_

_When I can, I will  
Words defy the plan  
When I can, I will_

_Fool enough to almost be it  
And cool enough to not quite see it  
And old enough to always feel this  
Always old, I'll always feel this_

_No more promise no more sorrow  
No longer will I follow  
Can anybody hear me  
I just want to be me  
When I can, I will  
Try to understand  
That when I can, I will_

He understands the words. All they say and all they mean is a single word; goodbye.

He understands the words, even if he can’t comprehend them.

He’s still trying to comprehend them as he works his way through another quarter of the bottle. The clock says he’s been sitting here on the floor like this for four hours now, but he doesn’t believe it. There’s no way it’s already been four hours since…

His phone rings, and he thinks he should probably answer it. He picks it up from the floor and presses the button.

“Hello?”

It’s Mike, voice frantic as it pours out into Jensen’s ear.

The world comes back into full color with a sudden snap. He’s on his feet without hanging up, running out the door, phone still in his hand. He doesn’t slow as he hits the street, and a car slams on its breaks, tires screeching as it swerves to avoid him. Security is yelling at him but he doesn’t care, heart trip-hammering in his chest, body sweating out cold bullets of fear, a single name filling his mind.

There are police cars, ambulances everywhere, scattered around the building, blocking the street on the side of the arena. There are police officers outside the arena doors, and they grab Jensen roughly as he tries shoving past them.

“I’m part of the band,” Jensen yells at them.

“I recognize you,” one of the policemen says, not letting go of his grip on Jensen’s arm. “But you can’t go in there.”

“Please,” Jensen begs, eyes starting to tear up as he stares at the cop, imploring. “I love him. I can’t… I have to be there.”

The grip on Jensen’s arm loosens and he can see the cop’s face get a little more human. “The two of you…?”

“For nine years.” Jensen nods, doesn’t care if the whole fucking world knows at this point. “I’ve been in love with him all my life. Please, if anyone can help him...”

“Let him go, Frank,” the cop says, releasing him.

“Could do more harm than good,” Frank protests, not quite letting go of Jensen.

“Might be the only thing that makes the difference, too. You ready to live with it if we don’t let him go and the worst happens?”

Frank lets go and Jensen pushes through the door. Six flights of stairs, and he takes them at a dead run, almost falling three times before regaining his feet. The officers at the top of the stairs open the door for him, and he runs right out onto the roof, feeling concrete under his feet. There are people everywhere, backed against the side of the building, paramedics, policemen, Mike, Sandy, Chad. Jensen rushes past them all to the open space. Another officer stops him there, megaphone in his hand, shaking his head.

“He said if anyone gets any closer—“

“Justin!” Jensen yells, ignoring the cop completely.

“Let him through. Just him,” Justin calls without turning around.

Jensen walks closer to edge. Everything is starting to feel surreal again, and he can’t let that happen—has to keep his focus. God, he’s so _scared_ , so fucking _angry_.

Justin is standing on the edge of the rooftop, so beautiful and completely fragile, wind rustling his hair, arms folded over his chest. “Don’t get any closer. Stay over there, down on the roof.” His body sways into the breeze, eyes closing, his chest passing beyond the ledge.

“Justin.” Jensen sinks down a few feet away against the inside of the stone ledge on his knees, falling heavily against the support. “Don’t.” He blinks, eyes heavy and hot with tears. “God. Please don’t.”

Justin lifts his chin, body swinging back into balance. “Why not, Jen? What have I got left to stick around for?”

“Everything. Fucking _everything_ , Justin.”

“You don’t want me… haven’t for a long time… and I know it’s my fault, Jen.” Justin’s voice is confident, assured and resigned despite the crackling of his voice. “I know _why_. I’ve been losing you for _years_ , inch by inch. It’s easy, you know, to pretend. To act like you don’t get it, because somehow, you think that’ll stop the future from happening. If you just spend enough time in denial… everything’ll pass. So easy to drift in that…” Justin raises a hand into the air, fingers loosely clenched. “I let it happen. Like sand through my fingers.”

“I used to think…” Justin nods, moving one foot towards the edge, toeing against the brick-line. “I used to think singing was enough, that it would be all I ever needed. Performing onstage… you know how much I love it, Jen.” Justin laughs with a broken, brittle sound. “Funny how the things you _think_ are important aren’t the things that turn out to be.” Justin shakes his head, wind streaming his hair back from his face. “All that ever made me feel good… the only thing that ever really mattered… was the way you looked at me… the way you loved me. I…” Justin lolls forward, balance shifting, eyes still closed. “I knew I wasn’t worth it… but _you_ thought I was... and that was enough.” Justin shrugs, city lights reflecting of the line of his shoulders. “Now…? It’s just the truth, Jen. I’m wasting space… and you… you were always better off without me.”

“That’s not truth. It’s a fucking _lie_ , and you goddamned well know it, Justin.”

Justin tilts his head to the side, opens his arms to the city below. 

Jensen grits his teeth together, tears streaming down his face as he rises to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. “You fucking _idiot_. If you think I loved you all these years for no reason at all, then you’re fucking deaf, dumb _and_ blind. If you can’t see why I ever thought you were worth it—if you really don’t fucking get it, then fucking _do it_ , Justin. Go out in your blaze of glory. Kurt Cobain will be _really_ fucking proud of you,” he spits out, bitter.

Justin turns and the wind kicks up, pushing him a stumbling step backward against the ledge. God, he’s balanced so precariously; Jensen could reach out, grab his leg and yank him, but it could go either way, and he can’t… can’t take the chance.

“At least Kurt went with dignity, with his fucking balls still intact.” 

“He killed himself, Justin. That doesn’t take balls. Doesn’t take brains. All it means… is that he didn’t think he was meant for anything better.”

“I’m _not_ meant for anything better,” Justin says, almost too soft for Jensen to hear. “At least this way I’ll leave something behind.”

“Then go ahead and _die_. Fucking _give up_ ,” Jensen screams, voice echoing off the brick into dead stillness, everyone hushed, paused and frozen all around him. “You think this’ll make you a legend, some kind of martyr? Then fucking _jump_ already, because if _that’s_ what you think, if that’s all you think you’re worth, then whatever you might’ve had to give to the world? It’s fucking _over_.”

Justin stands there, shoulders squared, staring out over the city filled with history, monuments and memorials.

“Go ahead, you fucking _asshole_ ,” Jensen yells, wind pushing inside his mouth. “Because I won’t cry for you if you step off that ledge. Not one single fucking _tear_. Because this is _your_ choice. _I know_ you’re worth more than this. I know you’re _stronger_ than this. I know someday you’ll be even better. But if you’re too scared to face the future… to even try and understand why I love you… then _fuck you_.”

Justin lifts his foot, boot rising from brick, body arched, poised over the edge.

“ _God **damn** you_ , Justin,” Jensen bellows, enraged, helpless. “Don’t you fucking _dare_ ditch out on me like this. You die and you’ll fucking kill me, too.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t care,” Justin whispers.

“And you believed me?” Jensen’s hands fall to his sides, anger leaving him in a rush, and all he can feel is fear and sadness, the tears streaming down his cheeks. “I still love you, Justin. Don’t you fucking know how much it’ll kill me if you go?”

Justin’s foot hovers over the edge, indecisive—and then the wind blows into him from behind, overbalancing him forward.

“No,” Jensen whispers. No, no, no, that’s _not_ what’s supposed to happen--he lunges for Justin—

Everything happens in slow motion; Jensen’s body falling through the air forever, arms reaching desperately for Justin’s calves.

Justin throws his weight backwards, heel catching against brick—and spins away from the ledge.

They collide in the middle, bodies falling hard against concrete.

Time catches up, their arms wrapped around each other, Justin beneath him, twisted halfway to the side, eyes heavily lidded, pupils glazed with drugs and alcohol. He reaches out, fingers grazing Jensen’s face.

Jensen chokes out a breath, forehead falling against Justin’s in utter and complete relief. God, he’s here, he’s _here_ and he’s alive. God.

“Nine years…nine years, Jen,” Justin breathes with all his heart and soul. “And you’re gonna walk away from me for someone you just fucking met?”

“It’s not him.” Jensen shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut. “It’s this… _life_. It’s _us_.” Christ. God. How can he… find the words for this? “ When…” he breathes, struggling, “was the last time you felt _happy_ about… _anything_ besides being onstage?”

“Poughkeepsie,” Justin whispers, crying, fingers curling in Jensen’s hair, desperate and needy.

“Look how long that lasted,” Jensen whispers back, words given without heat, without hatred or blame; just truth. 

“I love you, Justin.” God, Jensen loves him _so_ much. “I’m always gonna love you,” he asserts, voice hoarse, breaking against the syllables. “But I… can’t do this anymore. We’re no good for each other. We haven’t been for a long time.”

“I know,” Justin whispers, then coughs, gripping Jensen hard. “But I’m still… going to... miss you…”

“God.” Jensen sucks in a sharp breath like a sob, rocking Justin in his arms. “Me, too.”

“I don’t… know… if I can… live through it.”

“Yes you can. We both can,” Jensen breathes, hands cupping Justin’s face, fervent. “We can. God, you have to live, okay?”

Justin’s mouth is moving, slow and tired through the words, eyelids sagging. “I… I love you… Jen. Always… have… always will.”

Justin coughs again, eyes rolling back in his head. His fingers slip away from Jensen’s face, eyelids flickering shut.

“Justin?”

He puts his fingers to Justin’s throat, fingertips seeking out that steady beat—

“Oh, no. Oh God, no.”

Barest flutter, dying out under his touch, Justin’s life flickering, fading away.

Jensen turns, yelling at all the people frozen around them. “Get the fucking paramedics over here _now_.”

Mike’s right there beside Jensen as the paramedics pull Justin away. “What’s… is he--?”

“He’s overdosing.” Jensen can’t feel anything, feels _everything_ , falling into the circle of Mike’s arm around his shoulders.

“His heart’s stopped,” the paramedic confirms. “Get me the adrenaline!” he yells at his partner.

The paramedic shoves the needle between Justin’s ribs and plunges.

 

*

 

 

Jensen sits alone in the corridor in the hospital, surrounded by antiseptic smell and white walls. 

Doctors and nurses walk by, on their way to other places and Jensen goes unnoticed by them all. They don’t seem real to him—none of this does. Then again, maybe he’s the one who isn’t real, because they smile and nod and take note of each other, passing him by like he’s a ghost. He _feels_ like a ghost. 

He could call Jared. Jared still feels real—far away, but real. He thinks about it, phone in his hand, thumb rubbing up and down the smoothness of the side, again and again. He doesn’t even know if Jared still cares. Jared has every reason not to after Jensen was stupid enough to let him walk away. 

What would he say, anyway? How would he explain what he can’t even comprehend, yet?

It’s been twenty minutes since he walked out of the room. Twenty minutes since he fell down against this seat. 

Everything he’s known for the last thirteen years of his life is _gone_.

There’s a void inside him, so deep, profound sadness rushing to fill it, and he wonders if he’ll ever be able fill it up with anything else.

_“I remember it all. Right to the moment when I…”_

_Justin is wan and pale, circles etched deep under his eyes, black fading to purple, washed out against the drab white of the hospital bed sheets._

_He’s still beautiful._

_“Where’d we go, Jen?” he asks, shaking his head like he doesn’t understand. So lost, such a lost, scared little boy, and Jensen wants to hug him hard, hold him tight._

_“I wish I knew,” Jensen whispers, hands gripping the rail on the side of the bed._

_Justin face contorts as he nods, upper lip folded under, caught between his teeth. “Are you gonna go... be with Jared now?”_

_“If he wants me,” Jensen nods, eyes filling with tears again._

_“I… I hope it makes you happy,” Justin says, voice halting, hesitating over the words, face drawn, trying desperately to hold back tears. “I… really _do_ ,” he says, offering Jensen a sad, thin smile, face twisting with emotion. “I want you to be… I’m just… scared. I’ve never… been without you, Jen. Who…” Justin shudders, fighting back a sob. “Who’s gonna take care of me now?”_

_“You will,” Jensen tells him, hand caressing Justin’s face. “You’re the only one who ever could.” He gives Justin a smile that’s just as sad, looking into his eyes. “It’s always been your choice.” Jensen leans down, presses a last kiss to Justin’s lips, taste of salt shared between them. He lingers there for a long time, eyes closed, hand shaking against Justin’s face, just feeling him._

_He forces himself to pull away, dragging in a deep, shuddering breath._

Jensen blinks, snapping from the memory. He pushes up from the bench, feet moving before his mind catches up.

It’s over. It’s done.

And there are other things he has to do now.

*

He says goodbye to each of them, alone.

They’ve all got separate rooms, now. The last two dates on the tour have been cancelled, and now they’re all just waiting around for Justin, getting ready to head back to LA when he’s recovered.

Mike’s the easiest. It doesn’t hurt when they finally hug goodbye, even if Jensen is going to miss him, slick polish and all.

Jeff isn’t too bad either, because Jeff grabs him in a massive bear hug so hard Jensen’s spine feels like it’s going to crack, and tells him to go be happy, for Christ’s sake.

Chad… that’s a lot harder. 

*

They’re outside the hotel, standing on the grass in the DC sunshine as Jensen haltingly explains.

“You’re the best friend I’ve had for the last three years,” Jensen tells him. “So…” he takes a deep breath. “I hope you’ll understand when I tell you that I’m leaving the band. You know better than anyone, how it’s been the last few years, the last few months… and I just _can’t_ be with Justin anymore. It’s not good for either one of us… and…” He runs a hand through his hair. “And… I’m in love with Jared, anyway. So it’s… I don’t want to go… but I have to.” He finally risks a glance at Chad’s face. 

“If I said I didn’t see this coming, I’d be a goddamned liar, Jen.” Chad’s lower lip curls under his teeth, frowning with emotion. “And I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t know it was gonna hurt.” Chad shakes his head, takes a deep breath. “But it’s long fucking overdue. You deserve to be happy.” He clasps Jensen’s face between his hands, face twisting as he pushes his forehead against Jensen’s, throat working. “Jared deserves someone like you.” Jensen closes his eyes against the pain, the love in the words. 

“You do what you have to do, Jenny. I’ll back you, all the way.”

Jensen grabs him in a hug so tight that the breath rushes out of both their lungs, face turning against Chad’s neck, and Chad hugs him back, like he’s got to squeeze him so hard he’ll never forget how it felt. Chad’s cheek is hot and wet against Jensen’s shoulder and Jensen’s not much better off, tears leaking from the corners of his closed eyes.

“You might as well have written his name on your goddamn notebook cover and drawn sparkly hearts all around it,” Chad confides.

Jensen laughs, choking through his tears.

*

When Jensen goes to Sandy, he thinks he’s as cried out as he can possibly be. He opens the door to the hotel room and Sandy takes one look at him, asks what wrong, half-rising from her seat on the edge of the bed.

“Is Justin--?”

“He’s still fine.”

The tears rise in his eyes again, and Sandy sits back down, hands creeping up to her mouth. 

“Oh, God,” she breathes. “It finally happened, didn’t it?”

“I’m sorry,” Jensen whispers, walking, falling to his knees in front of her.

“Don’t be.” Her tiny arms grab Jensen around the shoulders, pulls him in close. “Oh, Jensen, honey. Don’t be sorry.” 

“You haven’t been happy in years, Jen. We all knew it; just like one day we all knew you’d get tired of it. But…” she chokes on the word, sobbing. “It’s like when you know someone’s going to die… No matter how ready you think you are… it’s always sudden.”

“Look out for him for me… much as you can,” Jensen begs.

“Oh, baby,” Sandy shudders, sobbing, hands running through his hair. “We all will. Don’t you worry.” She presses a hot kiss against his forehead, lips trembling, wetness left behind. 

They stay like that for a long time, arms wrapped around each other, clinging desperately.

*

Jared’s in the room two doors down from Sandy. He knows because Sandy told him. She also told Jensen that Jared’s planning on flying out later this afternoon, heading back to Illinois for a bit before he gets back on the road.

Illinois, where Jared’s family is.

This is the only chance Jensen’s going to get, whether he feels up to it or not.

He stands there, feeling like an idiot for a few long moments, and then he raises his hand, knocks on the door.

The look on Jared’s face is too cute for fucking words. And _fuck_ he looks good. It’s been too long since Jensen’s seen him. His hair wet and tousled from the shower, gray tank top just a little damp at the upper edge, clinging to his chest, faded blue jeans, and God, his body, his face, _everything_. The sight of him hits Jensen like a jolt of electricity, running all through him, and his heart skips a beat and then starts to pound. 

“Jensen.” Jared’s expression shifts from surprise to confusion, then worry. “Why are you…? Is everything okay?” He stops, looking at Jensen’s face. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

“Yeah.” Jensen nods, hands clenched in his pockets. “It’s been a rough… hell, week? Couple of weeks? What fucking day is it, anyway?”

“Like I’d know?” Jared smiles.

Jensen manages to smile back. His heart is beating way too fast, and for one paranoid second, he wonders if Jared can hear it. “Could I… Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Jared steps back, opening the door. Jensen moves past him, shoulder barely grazing Jared’s chest as he walks. It takes an effort of willpower that’s almost physical to keep from turning and touching him. He sits on the edge of the bed in the middle, giving Jared plenty of room to sit at the end without being too close.

“I heard about what happened,” Jared says as he sinks down on the corner, leaning his elbows against his thighs. “I’m sorry.”

Jensen just nods.

“I thought about coming… thought about calling…” Jared worries at his lower lip. “I wanted to. But it just… didn’t seem right, you know?”

“I know.”

“I’m just glad you’re both all right.” Jared clears his throat. “So how are you holding up?”

“Pretty good,” Jensen nods, almost surprised by the assessment. “But I’m pretty sure that’s just because it hasn’t all hit me yet.”

“Yeah, it’s… heavy stuff. I was worried about you.”

“You were?”

“It’s not like I hate you, Jensen,” Jared hedges, leaning forward a little further. “I’m just trying to let you live your life.”

“Yeah… about that…” Jensen pauses, trying to find the words. He didn’t come here with a speech prepared, and he can’t stop being overwhelmed by the fact that Jared’s right here, next to him, and for the first time in weeks, everything feels right again. “God, it’s really good to see you,” he says.

Jared smiles a little. “It’s good to see you, too. I…” he pauses, looking away from Jensen. “I kinda missed it,” he says, quick and quiet, like he knows he shouldn’t.

Jensen shakes his head, thin smile stretching across his lips. “Jared. Do you have any idea… how much I’ve missed you? How miserable I’ve been? Every single _day_ you haven’t been around? God, just seeing you today, it’s like a relief—like I’ve been holding my breath all this time and didn’t know it.” He reaches out and strokes the hair back from Jared’s face, tucking it behind his ear so he can see his face.

“Stop it,” Jared hisses, pushing up from the bed. He paces a few steps across the room and turns on Jensen. “Just stop. You’re not leaving Justin and I _know_ that. Just… please. Stop torturing both of us.”

Jensen nods, mouth folding into a straight line. He takes a deep breath. “I already left Justin.”

Jared blinks, looking at Jensen. His head jerks to the side, mouth opening, and then he turns back to look at Jensen. His brows rise, and his mouth tries to form words for a moment, and then he stops, head jerking to the side again. His fingers twitch as he stares at the wall, wide-eyed, like it’ll all make sense if he just looks at it long enough. “Wait…” he breathes, one finger twitching out from his side, pointing. He shifts his weight and turns his whole body towards Jensen. “What?” he asks softly, head cocked to the side like he isn’t sure he understood Jensen.

“I left him. It’s over, Jared.” 

Jared’s brows rise even higher, his mouth opening again. No sound comes out, and his expression shifts again, brows drawing together in a frown, jaw snapping shut. He moves his feet apart, puts a hand to his chin and looks down at the floor, then at Jensen, the floor, Jensen, until he finally throws up his hands, shaking his head. “ _What?_ ”

“I know it’s hard to believe. But I did it.”

“Is that—did you—God, fuck--” Jared breaks off, staring at Jensen in disbelief. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“But---I mean---you---Jesus fuck, Jensen-- _why?_ ”

“You really need to ask me that?”

“No. But. I mean. _Fuck_ , Jensen. I didn’t really think you’d—God--” Jared finally settles his eyes on Jensen, really seeing him. “Are you _okay_? Is—is _he_ okay?”

“We both will be. Eventually.”

“I… I don’t even know what to say,” Jared breathes.

Jensen gets to his feet, crossing the distance between them. “Say you want this. Say you want me.”

Jared’s eyes are wide, lost, confused hazel, nostrils flaring as he pulls in a deep breath. “You’re serious?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever been as serious in my life,” Jensen smiles.

Jared’s eyes soften, going liquid—and then he takes a quick step backward, body language going defensive.

“I told you once … I’m no Justin Hartley. I can’t _be_ him. I’ll never replace him, Jensen. You need to _know_ that.”

“I don’t want you to replace him.” Jensen shakes his head, putting his hands on Jared’s face. “I don’t _want_ you to be him. You’re you… and I want _you_ … exactly the way you are.”

“Don’t _fuck with me_ ,” Jared hisses, yanking back.

“I’m not.” Jensen’s eyes are steady as he backs Jared against the wall. “I’m _so_ not fucking with you. All I want,” he breathes, “is this.”

Jared’s eyes flutter closed, breath and will leaving him as he falls back against the wall. 

“You know…” Jared says, drawing a shaky breath. “I used to hear you guys back when I was in high school, catch you on TV—back before I went on the road all the time—and even then, I remember thinking… ‘wow, that Jensen guy… he seems like the real deal.’ And then I’d laugh and think; no one can ever live up to the image you get from their music. I mean, it happens all the time; people with rock star or movie star crushes, and then they actually meet the person, or catch them in a certain interview and they just… don’t live up to the image you have built up in your head. But you...you’re that and more.”

“Every night, I stand backstage… and I watch you play.” Jared bites his lower lip, lets it go with a sound that’s not quite a laugh, shaking his head. “And I can _see_ , how much you love it, how much you put into it. Every single time you’re onstage, you’re playing your heart out; you’re feeling it, giving everything to it. I’ve seen a lot of people play. And some of them are really amazing, and they’re into it. But you…” Jared sighs, shakes his head. “You come _alive_ when you play, and it’s… so _pure_ , so _singular_ …” Jared hesitates, swallows hard and meets Jensen’s eyes full on. “It’s… one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

Jensen knows lots and lots of words. He writes and speaks them on a regular basis. Right now, he can’t remember any of them.

“You’re so passionate about _everything_. You feel everything _so_ much. You’ve just got this _heart_ , so beautiful and sad and _honest_ , and every night you’re on that stage, every time we talked, every time we touched… I saw it, I _felt_ it. It’s even more beautiful than the way you play. And it’s… it’s why I…” Jared stumbles over the words for a second, hesitating.

“Why you what?” Jensen asks, feeling breathless.

Jared swallows hard, fitting his palm against Jensen’s chest, fingertips pressing lightly into the skin, trembling there. “It’s… why I fell in love with you,” he whispers.

“You _are_ the real thing, Jen. I knew it from the second I met you.”

Jensen is shaking, eyes wide, and fucking Christ, he’s going to cry _again_. “So… does that…” his voice cracks across the words, and it’s hard to _breathe_ right now, “mean you’re in?”

“Tell me you love me,” Jared breathes, mouth grazing, so warm and sweet against Jensen’s. “And let’s find out.”

Jensen’s eyes close, words resonating inside him. When he opens them again, they’re wet, lashes glistening. “I love you, Jared.” Words whispered out hot, with all his heart, painted across the softness of Jared’s lips. “I love you so much I don’t know how to do anything else.” His mouth melts against Jared’s, sealing the words. 

“Yeah,” Jared gasps, choking back a sob as he wraps his arms around Jensen. “I’m in.”

The relief that sweeps through Jensen is sudden and complete, fingers tightening against Jared’s face, mouth tilting, angling, slow press of lips as they lean into each other, breathing out. Slow, gentle at first, lips parting, Jensen’s tongue sweeping inside to taste Jared, and he tastes _good_ , so fucking incredibly good. Jared’s hands slide up under the back of Jensen’s shirt, warm hands gliding over skin, up the curve of his spine, tongues brushing against each other, sliding, tangling, so gloriously slow. Mouths opening wider, tongues seeking, sinking deeper, greedy and sweet. It hits Jensen in the gut like a punch, ripples of warm shock pulsing all through him, and it’s crazy that something as simple as kissing Jared is making him feel lightheaded. They keep kissing until Jensen feels like he’s high, until he feels like he’s dizzy and spinning from it, bodies molded together, hands holding each other tight, hearts pounding against each other.

Jensen pulls away, just for a second to breathe, because he’s starting to feel like if he doesn’t, his knees are going to give out. 

“Wow,” Jared breathes, head falling back against the wall. God, the way he looks, so fucking sexy it’s criminal, hazel eyes slitted and glazed, mouth deep pink, lips parted as he pants in quick, shallow breaths.

“So I’ve been thinking…” Jensen smiles, “about all the ways I wanna make my utter stupidity up to you.”

“Do any of them involve taking off your clothes?” Jared whispers, arching against him. “Because I’m really hoping.”

“Mmm,” Jensen purrs, kissing Jared as he spins him around. “As a matter of fact…” he whispers, backing Jared towards the bed, “most of them do.” He curls his fingers under the edge of Jared’s shirt and fists his hands in the material. “And yours, too,” he adds, pulling Jared’s shirt up. Jared lifts his arm and Jensen yanks the tank top over Jared’s head. Jensen lets go as it comes free and it hasn’t even hit the floor yet when Jensen fits his hands against Jared’s bare chest. He flexes his fingers, squeezing, and Jared gasps in a breath, forehead tilting into Jensen’s.

“God… been dying to feel you,” Jensen says, voice rough and gritty as he lets his hands run down over Jared’s stomach, fingertips tracing the lines between the muscles. 

“You were all I thought about,” Jared breathes, hands squeezing Jensen’s shoulders.

“Even in Charlotte?” Jensen asks, fingers teasing just under the line of Jared’s jeans.

Jared twitches against the feel of Jensen’s fingers, eyes not shying from Jensen’s at all. “You…?”

“Yeah.”

“He… looked like you,” Jared confesses.

“Should I be flattered?” Jensen asks, voice going gravelly, head tilting as he looks at Jared, fingers teasing an inch lower.

Jared bites his lower lip, eyes fluttering at the way Jensen’s touching him. “He _wasn’t_ you. God, he wasn’t even close…” Jared says, pushing into Jensen’s touch. “But when I looked at him, I could pretend…”

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” Jensen promises. “Not _ever_ again, if I have my way.” Jensen surges into Jared, mouths meeting, wet and hot, kissing as they fall to the bed.

“Better not,” Jared grunts into Jensen’s mouth, fingers tugging Jensen’s shirt up insistently. Jensen pulls away far enough for Jared to yank it free, and then he falls against Jared’s chest.

Jensen licks down the line of Jared’s pulse, tongue flashing out against his collarbone, tasting every inch of his hot skin, savoring the taste of salt when he starts to sweat, writhing under Jensen as Jensen takes his time swirling slow circles around Jared’s nipples, teeth closing, tugging against the sweet moans Jared’s making.

Jensen sucks his way down Jared’s stomach, tongue swirling through the suction, pulling blood against skin, biting around the marks as Jared twists underneath him, whispering out Jensen’s name. Jensen holds him down by the shoulders, keeps him from thrusting into the heat of Jensen’s mouth as he licks, sucks, delineates every curve of muscle, line of bone. Jensen’s waited too long for this; to feel Jared under him, moaning, arching, crying out and begging him.

Jensen opens Jared’s jeans with a quick twist of fingers, palms laying flat against Jared’s stomach, eyes burning into Jared’s as he catches the zipper tab between his teeth and pulls.

Hands working without thought, slow zig-zag of jeans over hips until they’re pushed to Jared’s knees. Jensen’s mouth is filled with the taste of him, overwhelmed by the scent of him, the feel of slick sweat and skin beneath his fingertips, their bodies gliding, slipping against each other, and he hasn’t had enough of it yet. 

“Wanted you so long like this…” Jensen breathes, licking a trail down the inner crease of Jared’s thigh. “Want to show you…” words whispered out hot, cheek nudging against the hard, full swell of Jared’s cock, “how much.”

The head of Jared’s cock is smooth like velvet against Jensen’s lips, hot and slippery, musky scent and the slick of pre-come. Jensen opens his mouth, welcomes the salty taste as he slides down the length of Jared’s cock, tongue rolling up the underside like a wave as he sucks, catching under the crown before he twists his head and sinks down again, one hand pressed to Jared’s belly, the other digging into Jared’s hip. He takes Jared slow and exquisitely, tongue tracing out every detail, every line and ridge as he sucks and slides.

Jared can’t even hold onto him, hands fisted in the sheets, twisting them into meaningless patterns, body held down by the strength of Jensen’s hands. His head is thrown back, mouth open in a stream of sound, and his fingers finally clutch at the back of Jensen’s head, fingers twisting, clenching in Jensen’s hair, so gone that he doesn’t even try to hold Jensen there, doesn’t even try to get better friction. He just lets Jensen take him, as slow and easy as Jensen wants, loving every single excruciating second.

Jared stiffens, gasping, fingers tearing at Jensen’s hair, and Jensen yanks his mouth away, tonguing at the slit just to watch Jared squirm.

Jensen tears Jared’s jeans away in one quick motion, falling back between his legs. He grabs Jared underneath his thighs, shoving them up against his chest as he drops lower, fingers pressing into Jared’s skin. He hums, lets his tongue flow out around the perfect, pink rim of him. Tongue lapping up every last taste, point pressed into the center, sliding between the clutch of Jared’s inner muscles. Jensen seizes Jared’s legs, yanks him down onto his tongue, width and length of it filling Jared, curling and teasing at the tip.

“Oh my Jesus fucking God, Jen.” Jared bolts underneath him, hips thrusting into the sensation, and Jensen shoves him down, tight against the bed, tongue taking him mercilessly. Jared moans, tries to twist against the bed, and Jensen holds him still, tongue spearing him and licking out slow, again and again while he holds Jared open.

Long, pumping thrusts of his tongue, and finally Jared breaks, begs, hands tearing at Jensen’s hair. “Please, please, please,” Jared gasps, hips trying to writhe under Jensen’s grip. “Please fuck me, Jen. Want you. Need you. _Now_. God, please.”

Jensen pulls away with a last suckling kiss against Jared’s rim. “Condom.” The word is a desperate breath against Jared’s skin. 

“Fuck, Jen,” Jared gasps, writhing. “Don’t wanna… want to feel you. Have you ever?”

“Never. Just Justin.”

“And Justin?” 

“Never, except for me.”

“Then fucking do it,” Jared gasps. “Just fuck me.”

Jensen doesn’t hesitate; wriggles out of his jeans and slicks his cock with his own spit. God, _yes_. Sinking into Jared, long, sweet, slow thrust, muscles hot—God, so _hot_ \--tight silken fist closing around his cock, wet with spit and nothing else, incredible pressure and friction, skin to skin and heart to heart as Jensen falls against Jared, fighting desperately for air.

“ _God_ ,” Jensen groans, head shoving against Jared’s cheek. “You feel _so_ motherfucking _good_.”

He sinks to the bottom, arms holding Jared tight, breath driven from his lungs as he feels Jared wrap around him and thrusts his hips into Jensen’s, fingernails clutching at the base of Jensen’s spine.

“You.” Jared breathes a staccato rhythm against Jensen’s face. “God. Fuck, yes.” Jared’s body arching into Jensen, taking him even deeper, his hands riding the curve of Jensen’s ass. 

Jared wrapped all around him, _squeezing_ , gasping, and _fuck_. Jared’s fingers, mapping out the muscles of his back, sliding up to his shoulders, holding on tight as Jensen thrusts his hips, starts to move. 

“Thought about this all the time,” Jared gasps, mouth finding Jensen’s. 

Jensen reaches for the words, finds them somehow as he fills Jared again, shuddering. “What did you...” Jensen groans, cock pushing against Jared’s sweet spot, Jared’s whole body stiffening, arching, going taut around him. “Think about?” he grates, stomach muscles twitching, hissing in a breath as he slides out again.

Jensen kisses him, body thrusting. “Tell me,” he breathes.

Jared’s hands slide down Jensen’s throat to his shoulders, his back, down, down, fingertips sinking into the muscles of Jensen’s ass, Jared’s head tilting back, hips rocking up, taking Jensen. His eyes are barely open, pupils huge as he looks up at Jensen. “Your hands… I love your hands… the way you play guitar, the way you touch me…the way they can be so gentle… or rough. They’re so strong…” Jared turns his face, lifts his chin and sucks two of Jensen’s fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling down between them, playing at the web of skin. Jensen slides his fingers in and out between Jared’s lips, rhythm keeping time with his body as he thrusts, and it’s so goddamned sexy, Jared sucking on his fingers, moaning around them. 

He slips his fingers from Jared’s mouth, leaning in and asking, “What do you want me to do with my hands, Jared?”

Jared bites his lower lip between his teeth, and _fuck_ , that’s _hot_. “Want you to hold me down, make me take it.” The words tumble out in a breathless rush, Jared rising to kiss him again. Jensen feels every single one like a gunshot, cock twitching helplessly inside Jared’s body as he thrusts. Jared’s eyes close, brows drawing together, fingers flexing against Jensen. “Want you to keep fucking me…” he whispers, hips shoving into Jensen with a jolt. “Fucking me until it hurts… so hard I can feel it tomorrow.”

Fucking God, _yes_.

“Mmmmm…” The sound is deep, guttural, vibrating low in Jensen’s chest like a purr. He lets go of Jared’s ass, hands trailing up and around Jared’s waist, mouth pressed forcefully against Jared’s with all his weight as he reaches behind his own body, curls his fingers around Jared’s hands and _yanks_ , Jared’s knuckles hitting the bed above Jared’s head. He locks his fingers around Jared’s wrists and holds him, hips rising and then slamming home with every bit of Jensen’s strength behind them.

Jared gasps, mouth falling away from Jensen’s as he writhes. 

“That what you want, Jared? Want me to hold you down, fuck your hot ass raw and sore?” Jensen tightens his grip, yanks out and plunges into Jared again, hips twisting, grinding, hitting every spot he can find on the way down. He lifts Jared’s legs up onto his shoulders as he half rises on his knees, then wraps the fingers of one hand around both of Jared’s wrists and pushing down hard, other hand pressing against the hollow of Jared’s throat. He puts all his balance behind his hands, saves the rest of his weight for fucking Jared as hard as he can, pounding in and out of him until Jared’s whimpering, mewling. Jensen fucks him so hard Jared’s whole body is jolting, head thrashing back and forth against the covers, body winding higher and higher off the bed, clenching around Jensen’s cock like a vice. Jared’s burning up inside, so fucking _tight_ , and the way he looks, coming apart underneath Jensen, perfect body sheathed in sweat, eyes squeezed, shut, mouth open and hitching in breath, breathing out ragged moans.

“Make yourself come,” Jensen tells him, shoving his body hard against Jared’s legs, hips snapping.

Jared gets his hand on his own cock, squeezing, stroking, building to a quick furious rhythm as Jensen slams into him again and again. Jensen watches, lower lip caught between his teeth as he drives into Jared, and it’s so incredibly hot. The second Jared comes, Jensen’s head snaps back, gasping for air against the exquisite pressure Jared clamping down around his cock. He keeps thrusting, shoving, pounding deep, holding just on the verge of coming for as long as he can. Jensen looks down again and Jared’s belly is covered in slick come, pearly beads of it spattered all over his chest, whole body quivering and shaking, cock twitching in his hand. Jensen heaves one last time, burying himself deep and falling against Jared, cock pulsing inside his body with sharp, intense bursts of jagged pleasure. His fingers flex around Jared’s wrists, squeezing hard, teeth sinking deep into Jared’s chest, Jared’s body folded in half underneath him, and it’s so intense he can’t even _move_ , body shuddering with every last pulse.

He sucks in a breath, not even realizing until then that he hasn’t been breathing, eyes fluttering open. “God.”

“So good, Jen.” Jared’s hands are in Jensen’s hair, stoking against the skin. “Missed you, so much.”

Jensen lifts his head, kisses him slow and deep, hands rising to cup Jared’s face. “I’m so sorry,” Jensen whispers,” that it took me so long to realize how much you mean to me.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Jared smiles. “You’re here.” His fingers tug at the short strands of Jensen’s hair, looking up at him, sweaty, rumpled and so satisfied—and more than that, the warmth of love in his eyes, so clear Jensen can’t believe he didn’t recognize it before. “But you can still tell me how much I mean to you,” Jared adds, smile widening. “’Cause I’m thinking that’s never gonna get old.”

He’s so beautiful, so sexy, so loving, tender and warm, and Jensen loves him so much that it almost _hurts_.

Jensen’s voice is rough, heavy with emotion. “I spent so long thinking Justin was all I ever wanted that I still believed it a long time after it stopped being true. But it’s so different with you than it ever was with him. It’s more than I ever imagined.” Jensen hesitates, and then plunges on, voice shaking. “I love the way you think, the way you let everything you’re feeling show through, the way you look, the way you move… you’ve got the biggest, beautiful heart, and your smile…” Jensen stops, shaking his head. “This is… you are… everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“God, Jen.” Jared’s voice is a thick, almost broken whisper. He kisses Jensen, hands pulling Jensen’s face down to him, holding him there. “You’re even more incredible than I thought you’d be,” he whispers when he finally pulls away.

“I held myself back a lot,” Jensen confesses. “I wasn’t… ‘allowed’ to even think about it. But now that I am… it’s like…” Jensen stops, trying to find the words. “Like I’m seeing the world for the very first time…” he trails off, thinking how silly he would have felt, saying that to Justin, but Jared’s just looking at him, smiling.

“I know exactly what you mean.”

Jensen slides his weight from Jared, turning on his side against the bed, stomach and chest still pressed against Jared, skin to skin.

Jensen strokes his fingers in idle patterns over Jared’s chest, one of Jared’s arms wrapped around him. “That song, Jared. The one we played together… did you… was it for me?”

“In the Blood,” Jared says. “That’s the name of the song. Yeah, it was for you,” Jared says, smiling thoughtfully before he looks at Jensen. “Never thought you’d take me up on it when I wrote it, though.”

“Justin… he thought you wrote it for me… I didn’t believe him… but I thought about it. That was the one time… for just a few seconds, I let myself imagine what it would be like… being with you…”

“What was it like?”

“Peaceful… happy. Like this. Like everything’s exactly the way it’s supposed to be.”

Jared smiles, cheek pressing against Jensen’s chest and nuzzling there. He only stays there for a few seconds before he half sits up, looking at Jensen with wide eyes.

“Jensen… what about the band?”

“I left them, too.”

Jared touches Jensen’s face, his brows knitting together with concern. “God, Jen. That must be so hard.”

Jensen feels his throat tighten, brief flash of pain shooting through him. “It’ll get easier.”

Jared’s face is sad as he nods, and he runs a thumb across Jensen’s cheek. “What are you gonna do now?”

“I think you mean what are _we_ gonna do now,” Jensen smiles.

Jared nods once, slowly, thinking about that. “Yeah. We,” he says like he’s trying it on for size. “What are _we_ gonna do now?” he asks, breaking into a brilliant smile.

“I’m not sure, yet. I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he says, looking at Jared, and they both laugh.

“Well.” Jared nods, still laughing. “Okay then.” He runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Anything you’ve always wanted to do?” 

“Small time bar tour,” Jensen answers. “At least, that’s what I thought about doing, before. But now… I’m wondering if maybe I should give up the life all together.”

“You mean… quit playing?” Jared asks, blinking.

“For money, anyway.”

“Well,” Jared shrugs, “you’ve got plenty of time to think about it. In the meantime, I guess we could stay in the hotel forever.”

“I’ve got a couple of houses--one in Albany, one in LA. We could go to Albany for a while, take a few days, spend some time together. Or… we could go to Illinois, if you wanted.”

“It’s just my family there, no house of my own. And with all this… I think I wanna wait a while.”

“Yeah, my family is in Albany, but I’m not ready to see them yet, either. I think… I just want some time alone, with you. Somewhere without any memories.”

“You’ve never stayed there?”

“Whenever we had time off, we stayed with my parents or with Justin’s, because they wanted us to. So it’ll be _our_ place,” Jensen says, smiling at the thought.

“Like a home of our own?” Jared asks.

“Not ‘like’,” Jensen corrects, “‘will be’.”

“God, I still can’t believe it,” Jared whispers, body sliding up Jensen’s. “And… we’re going to live together.”

“Is it… too fast?”

“No. I just feel like I’m dreaming.”

“You can have your own room if you want,” Jensen offers. “A couple of them.”

Jared smiles, shakes his head. “No, thanks. The only room I wanna be in is the one with you in it.”

Jensen smiles and pulls him into kiss.

*

Jensen spends most of the next morning arranging transport of his stuff from the tour buses to his place in Albany. He still can’t quite get his head around the fact that this is really happening, but as long as he keeps moving forward, one foot in front of the other, he’s managing to keep it all together.

He’s just finishing ordering the private car that’ll drive them there when someone knocks on the door.

Jensen isn’t at all prepared for who’s on the other side.

“Hey, Jen,” Justin says, meeting his eyes. He looks ragged; fragile boy spinning apart in front of Jensen’s eyes, and his voice cracks over the two words, simple as they are.

Jensen understands; he feels like he’s splitting in half just standing here looking back at Justin, so many years between them, and finally, here at the end of it all. The end. 

He still can’t believe it’s over.

“Justin… what…?” Jensen feels like a man caught in a dream.

“I’m not here to cause trouble.” Justin says the words quickly, so heartfelt and sincere. “I… came by to…” Justin’s eyes flutter closed for a second, and he exhales, breathes in again. “There are some things…” he goes on, clearing his throat, standing straight again, not quite looking at Jensen, eyes fixed somewhere over Jensen’s left shoulder. “Some things I wanted… to say to Jared. If you don’t mind.”

Jensen grips the hotel door and feels his chest tighten, torn between wanting to protect Jared and wanting to give Justin whatever he wants. “Why Jared?” he whispers, staring back into those eyes.

“We… you and me… we already said what we had to say…I just… I want to…” Justin breaks off, voice choking around the words. He coughs into his hand, taking a moment, whatever words he’s searching for failing him. He finally looks back at Jensen, simple plea in his eyes, words following what Jensen sees reflected there. “Please?”

And there, underneath the wracking sorrow in him, Jensen can see it, plain as day. That quality to him that Jensen hasn’t seen full on in years; that grace and art—the man that’s always been there, hiding beneath the boy, beautiful and strong.

It’s the strangest most dissonant feeling, the sudden trust that floods through Jensen. Everything in his rational mind is screaming that this is a terrible idea, his heart secure in knowing that whatever Justin came here to say, it’s not intended to hurt either one of them.

Still so connected… maybe they’ll always be this connected. Jensen can’t imagine it… years from now, still being this connected, thinks he couldn’t stand it if they were.

“Let him in, Jensen.” Jared’s voice is close, just behind Jensen. He sounds tired, but nothing could mask the quiet certainty of Jared’s tone.

“I know this is… weird.” Justin makes a sound that’s not really a laugh. “But it’s…”

“Closure,” Jared almost whispers, nodding.

Justin nods, looking at Jared with soft surprise. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Jensen steps back out of the way then, pulling the door along with him to let Justin inside, because… whatever this is, it’s between the two of them.

Justin and Jared settle on the couch, not quite at opposite ends, not too close together—enough room for a person to sit comfortably between them. Jensen bites at his lower lip, muscles in his shoulders knotting, and settles onto the edge of one of the hotel chairs across from them. The room feels tight with anticipation, tension he could cut with a knife, and still, something else layered underneath… something like… acceptance, maybe? No, not quite that, but it’s as close as Jensen can get to naming it.

“I’m sorry,” Justin starts, shaking his head. “It’s just… I don’t…”

“Take your time,” Jared says when Justin lets the sentence hang for several long seconds.

“It’s hard to know where to start,” Justin finally finishes, nodding slowly. “So… I guess I’ll… start at the beginning.” Justin nods again. “Back then… everything was different. Nothing like it is now. But… but even then…” Justin shrugs, shaking off the reverie as his voice strengthens. “I knew he was in love with me for years before I finally took the chance. You know why?” Justin asks with humorless laugh and a shake of his head. “Because I knew how _much_ he loved me, the way he saw me… and I never wanted to screw that up.” Justin nods, glancing away. “Some part of me always knew I would. But I couldn’t…” Justin coughs and turns back to Jared. “I couldn’t resist him.” He nods, still looking at Jared with a thin, broken smile. “You know how that is, don’t you?”

Jared presses his lips together and nods.

“I never…” Justin bounces a fist against one of his thighs nervously as he struggles through the words, “felt like I was good enough for him. For a little while… just a little while… I believed, _maybe_ , maybe I _was_ you know? He made me want to believe that I was… but deep down… I… I always worried one day he’d find someone better… and I was so scared…” Justin trails off, snorting softly. “I see it so clear now… how it twisted me up inside. The things I did… that all the ‘I’m sorry’s’ in the world can’t change now. I still… still don’t think I deserved him. Especially now. And I’m not here for pity… I’m…” Justin clears his throat. “I’m not here for anything like that.”

“Say what you need to say.” Jared is still tense, but he’s looking at Justin, hanging on his every word.

Justin takes his time working up to the question. “Do you love him, Jared?”

“I do,” Jared answers without hesitation.

“No…” Justin huffs out a sudden breath and rubs a hand across his face fingers gripping tight against his mouth for a moment. He breathes in deep and then tries again. “No. I mean… do you _love_ him? With everything inside you? With your whole heart? More than anything?”

“God, yes.” 

“Good. Because that’s… that’s how he loves. And if you loved him any less…” Justin shakes his head like he doesn’t know how to finish the sentence and Jared nods as if Justin had; as if he understands exactly what Justin means.

“I… know you must… have to… or you’d never be able to let me in here.” Justin pauses, like he’s gathering himself for the next words. “You were right…” Justin breathes, “when you told me you were nothing like me. You’re not. I couldn’t sit here right now like you are… couldn’t be… as graceful.” 

“You _are_ sitting here,” Jared returns.

“Yeah,” Justin nods, frowning hard. “Yeah.” He glances up and off to the side with a shaky breath. “I guess I am. Now that it’s too late. And that’s…” Justin hesitates, glancing down at the floor, hands twisting on his lap before they finally close into a single fist. “I’m not sure how graceful I’m being,” he adds, shrugging. “But at least I’m here, and that’s… that’s a start.”

Justin meets Jared’s eyes dead on as he speaks again, words leaving him like he’s helpless to stop them. “I love him, Jared. I always will. Even if he’s not with me… I’m always going to love him. I’m always going to miss him. And I hope… I hope… that you understand that. I’m not gonna get in your way… but I’ll never stop caring about him.”

Jared’s mouth quirks into the saddest, sweetest smile. “I know…” Jared hesitates, smile crinkling a little deeper; a little sadder. “I mean…nobody ever stops loving anyone. I’d… think less of you if you _didn’t_ always love him.”

Justin nods, eyes glistening for an instant before he blinks rapidly. “You…” Justin gives a brittle laugh and shakes his head. “It’s no wonder he fell for you. You’re like him, you know?”

“In some ways,” Jared agrees, voice soft.

“More ways than you probably even know, yet,” Justin says, smiling sadly. 

“And that… that’s part of why I came here. There are… some things you should know.” Justin runs a shaking hand through his hair. “He was telling me the truth when he said he wasn’t leaving me _for_ you. He’s been leaving me for years. You were… like… the gun, I guess. No one blames the gun. I loaded it… and Jensen pulled the trigger. It’s… it never was your fault. Don’t carry that.”

Jared nods, silent understanding, throat working, eyes filled with emotion.

“He’s amazing, you know,” Justin says, almost whispering, eyes welling up. “He’s got the strongest, loyal heart. This way where he looks at you…” Justin shakes his head, looking lost and full of wonder. “And you just know you’re the most important thing in the world.” He drags in a harsh, shuddering breath, hand covering his mouth, eyes squeezing tight with emotion.

“Justin,” Jensen whispers, eyes fluttering shut. God it _hurts_ to see him like this. 

Justin clears his throat, pulls his hand away from his face and composes himself, looking at Jared. “You know that look, Jared?” His voice trembles, just a little.

“Yeah.” Jared’s voice is a bare whisper, ghost of a nod. His eyes are liquid, fixed on Justin with such intensity, so much sadness and sympathy.

Justin presses his lips together tight, nods, eyes squeezing shut as he nods. “Good. Because you should have that… if you’re…” Justin sniffles once, quick and sharp and then he opens his eyes. “That’s exactly how he should look at you.”

Jared reaches out, hand resting on Justin’s shoulder, and Justin lifts his hand, lets it rest over Jared’s for a second, the two of them just staring at each other, half-silhouetted in the sunlight, eye to eye and heart to heart, so beautiful and so incredibly _sad_.

“Be good to him, Jared,” Justin breathes, voice shaking, breaking over the words. “Be good to him.” Jared’s staring at Justin, too stunned to speak. Justin turns his head, looks Jensen in the eye, soft brown brimming with tears. “He deserves it.”

Justin takes Jared’s hand from his shoulder and puts it carefully on Jared’s knee, palm resting, holding there for an instant, and then he pulls away. Justin pushes from the couch, pulling himself together with as much dignity as he can manage, hands twisting, face twitching with the effort of control. Jensen watches, feeling like life is happening in slow motion, brain unable to catch up.

Justin presses a hand to his mouth, gives Jensen a last, heart torn look, and walks to the door, pushing into the hall.

“Jensen…” Jared’s eyes are wide, intense. 

Jensen’s on his feet in seconds flat, rushing into the hallway after Justin.

“Justin.” The hallway seems to bright, too long, footstep after footstep, Justin too far away. “ _Justin_.”

Justin spins on him, eyes angry, cheeks wet. “What?”

Jensen shakes his head, can’t even find the words. 

“You’re right to go.” Justin grabs Jensen’s face between his hands. “Leaving’s all I’ve ever been good for.”

“Justin.” Jensen grabs his forearms, fingers curling in the muscles, thumbs stroking his skin. That skin he knows so well, feel of it as familiar as his own.

“Do you know how hard this is for me already? Don’t make it any harder. Go back. Go back to him. Go be fucking _happy_ for fuck’s sake.”

But. No. It shouldn’t… this isn’t…

“What’s left that we haven’t already said?” Justin asks, voice a shaky whisper. “Just… fucking go.” Justin chokes, falling away from Jensen.

“Justin.” He takes two quick steps, grabs Justin.

“Fuck off,” Justin spits, spinning on him, shaking him off. “Just fucking… fuck off and let me _leave_.” Justin’s face falls, crumples and breaks, hands rising to cover his face as a sob tears free of his chest, and Jensen feels his heart shatter at the sight.

Jensen reaches for him, and Justin flinches away like he’s been burned.

“Go,” Justin roars, hands clenched into fists, veins in his neck standing out. 

Jensen feels his eyes prick, harsh sting and swell, world dissolving in a blur.

“Leave me with some fucking dignity. Christ’s sake,” Justin pleads. “Please.”

Jensen lower his hands, feels something in his chest fracture as he does. It isn’t right. It isn’t supposed to be like this. He’s supposed to be there for Justin… it’s what he’s _always_ done. 

But it’s… not his job anymore… and that… that…

Justin’s right. He really should just go. Because if he stays here, Jensen’s going to unravel right in front of him… and Justin… Justin can’t handle that, and neither can Jensen.

He forces himself to turn away, and the walk back down the hallway is even longer, each step feeling like his feet are made of lead, shaking with the effort of holding himself together.

The door is open, and Jared’s there, waiting.

“Jensen?” Jared asks, and his face is streaked with tears, too, so worried, concerned.

Jensen stumbles, falls against him and Jared wraps his arms around Jensen, runs a hand through Jensen’s hair.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, hugging Jensen tight.

Jensen breaks then, collapsing into Jared’s arms, tears flowing out fast and hot, fingers curling in Jared’s shirt as he sobs. 

“I’m gonna miss him, Jared,” Jensen shudders out, voice cracking around the words. “God. I’m gonna miss him so much.”

“I know, Jen. I know.” Jared hugs him tighter, presses his lips against the crown of Jensen’s head. Jared’s shaking, crying as hard as Jensen, and he’s not sure if it’s because Jared’s heart is breaking for Jensen, for Justin, or for both of them, but he loves him for it. God, he really _does_.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”

“Shh. Don’t be.”

Jared just holds Jensen close, body warm, arms squeezing him tight, and lets him cry.

*

Chad calls them the next day from LA to tell them Justin checked himself into rehab, and Jensen doesn’t know whether to rejoice or start crying again.

*

They leave for Albany the next day in a private car. The house isn’t much of a home, though it’s all furnished—Jensen’s never spent much time here. It feels good to be in a place with no real memories, someplace new, starting over again. It’s a pretty big place, six bedrooms, four baths, a finished basement, and Jared drags him through every single room, excited as a little kid.

“I love it,” he proclaims, falling back against the bedroom wall, pulling Jensen in against him. “I can’t believe it’s ours,” Jared smiles, mouth close to Jensen’s. 

“I think we should christen it,” Jensen smiles, reaching down and tugging Jared’s shirt up.

“Right away,” Jared agrees, hands rising as Jensen peels Jared’s shirt off.

Jared leaves his arms up against the wall, and Jensen pulls Jared’s hands together, fingers of one hand wrapping around Jared’s wrists; thumb curling around one, forefinger between the two, fingers squeezing around the other. He runs his free hand down Jared’s chest, loving the feel of smooth skin and muscle trembling under his fingertips. Jared’s so powerful, and he’s surrendering it all to Jensen.

Jensen feels high on it, almost giddy, hips grinding against Jared’s, mouths sealed together, wet, hot, and sweet. Jensen grabs the hard bulge of Jared’s cock through his jeans, Jared gasping into his mouth, hips shoving into his hand. He slides his hand up the long length, sucking on the end of Jared’s tongue, feels him shudder, knees buckling, body trying to slide down the wall.

“So hot, Jensen, fuck.” Jared’s hips strain against his hand again. 

“You like being pinned, Jared? Pushed up against the wall all helpless while I play with your cock?” Jensen squeezes Jared with both hands and Jared moans, head tilting back against the wall.

“Fuck yes. Your hands, God.”

“Could turn you around and fuck you right here against the wall,” Jensen breathes. “Pin your arms over your head, put my other hand on the back of your neck and hold you there while I do it.”

Jared groans, shivering like he’s going to shake apart. 

“Fuck your hot ass until you beg me to let you come…” Jensen licks a slow stripe up the exposed line of Jared’s throat. “Take my hand off your neck, wrap it around your cock,” he locks his teeth around Jared’s jawbone, biting down and releasing with a swirl of his tongue over Jared’s skin. “Fuck you back and forth between my cock and my hand until you come all over yourself.” 

Jared whimpers at the words, head twisting against the wall. “Fucking _Christ_.” He wants it; Jensen can see want written all over him, the desperation in his eyes, the way he’s shaking, the way his cock twitches against Jensen’s hand.

Jensen growls, hands squeezing Jared hard—and then he yanks Jared away from the wall, spinning him around and pushing him on the bed. “We’ve got a bed to break in, first,” Jensen smirks, pulling his shirt over his head.

Jensen strips Jared, flips him over and fucks him like that against the bed, instead, one hand holding Jared’s hands above his head, the other pressed against the back of Jared’s neck, Jared writhing, squirming, so desperately loving every second until Jensen can’t stand it anymore. He lets his weight fall against Jared, teeth fastening to the back of his neck, hand stroking Jared’s cock as he drills into him. Jared comes violently hard, whole body seizing, and Jensen keeps going, fucking him even harder as he draws out every last sweet shiver from Jared’s body. Jared goes limp, moaning underneath him, and Jensen finally comes, pleasure roaring through him like a volcanic explosion, fingers gripping Jared so hard that he’ll have bruises tomorrow.

When he can breathe again, Jensen rolls Jared over, pulls Jared on top of him and kisses him long and slow, fingers running through Jared’s hair.

“I love you,” Jared whispers, and Jensen feels the words rush through him with a thrill, head to toe.

“And I love you,” Jensen answers, smiling and kissing Jared again, loving the feel of so much of Jared pressed against him. It’s not enough, not nearly close enough, but it’s as close as they can be, and Jensen thinks he’ll never get enough of this.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jared says when he pulls back to catch his breath. “About what we talked about the other day. Are you still thinking about giving up on playing?”

Jensen thinks about that for a long moment. “I don’t…” Jensen stops, biting at his lower lip. “I don’t _want_ to.” Jensen says, heart heavy as he looks into Jared’s eyes. “I love music, Jared. I love the soul of it, the feel of it, the way it comes through me…” he shakes his head, closes his eyes. “But sometimes I think the only way I’m ever gonna be happy again, is if I leave this life.”

“It doesn’t always have to be bad,” Jared says. He reaches up, thumbs catching across Jensen’s cheekbones, fingers curling underneath Jensen’s jaw. “I’ve been thinking… about how much you love what you do, about how much it means. I can’t let you give it up, Jen. Music’s your _soul_. You try to cut that out, and you’ll cut your heart right out of your chest.” Jared’s cheek grazes Jensen’s, nuzzling, mouth breathing words against his skin.

“I’ve got you,” Jensen whispers, hands clutching Jared tight.

“Yeah. You do. But much as you love me Jensen… playing guitar… it’s what you _do_ , it’s who you _are_. It’s how you _tell_ the world who you are.” Jared pulls back, eyes meeting Jensen’s as he shakes his head, fingers tracing the curves of Jensen’s face. “You don’t just have a gift. You have a passion--a joy. It’s part of you… so deep,” Jared whispers, hand shaking as he runs his fingers over Jensen’s face, up into his hair. “Deeper than bones. And…” Jared draws a breath, fingers flexing against Jensen’s head. “No matter how much you love me… no matter how much you think you need to give that up…” Jared hesitates, corners of his eyes crinkling, brows drawing together as he looks at Jensen so completely, so intent. “I can’t let you. It would be the _worst_ thing I could ever let you do to yourself.”

“Jared…” Jensen swallows against the word, voice heavy and thick. He wants… wants everything Jared’s saying… but how? “How can I know this time around will be any different? I got to say what I wanted, but the industry tore me and Justin apart _anyway_.”

“So this time… we’ll just have to make sure it’s different,” Jared smiles, tipping his head to the side. “You and me, Jen… we can do anything we want.”

_We can do anything as long as we do it together_

Jensen feels breath fill his lungs slowly against the tightness in his chest.

“I always…” he starts, then chokes against the words, his head turning against the pillow. Softness, such softness against his cheek, and it doesn’t feel like anything inside him; jagged, hard edges of memory; puzzle pieces that never quite fit together the way he thought they did.

“I always thought… the same… about me and Justin.” The words feel like betrayal--fragile, fast flash of pain through his heart.

Jared pulls back, breathing slow, still looking at Jensen. He looks for a long time before he finally nods, eyes filled with sadness and understanding, fingers tugging through the strands of Jensen’s hair. “Except that I’ll _always_ be there beside you. I’ll always be there for you, Jensen. _Always_.”

“Are you sure?” Jensen asks, heart burning with the need to know, fingertips clutching Jared’s face. “Because I… I’m… what Justin said… I’m always going to love him, too, Jared,” he confesses, eyes closing. “Not like I love you, but… he’s always going to be in my heart.”

“Look at me,” Jared whispers, voice and hands soft. “Look at me, Jen.”

Jensen opens his eyes, almost afraid of what he’s going to see. 

“Like I told _him_ …” Jared says, hands stroking Jensen, slow and sure. “I’d think less of you if you didn’t.”

How can he…? “Do… Do you really mean that?”

Jared’s eyes close with the briefest smile. “Jensen… Milo’s been dead for years… and I still love him. Always will,” Jared answers softly, kissing Jensen’s cheek. “Nobody ever _stops_ loving anyone, and if they do… then they never really loved them in the first place. The way you feel about Justin, the way I feel about Milo… Doesn’t mean it gets in the way of what _we_ have. I’m not asking to be the only person you’ve ever loved… just the one you love more than anything _now_.”

“I do,” Jensen whispers, plaintive, running his hands through Jared’s hair. “God, I love you… so much more than anything.”

“I know,” Jared smiles, forehead leaning into Jensen’s. “So…” he says, body flexing with breath against Jensen. “Like I said… I’ve been thinking…” he smiles. “And what I’m thinking is… Me and you, smalltime local bar tour for a few months… and then we figure out the rest. What do you say?”

Jensen blinks hard, willing back the blur of his vision. “Just me and you?”

“Yeah,” Jared grins, thumb stroking the line of Jensen’s jaw. “For a while. And then, if we want, we can hire ourselves a bassist and a drummer, start from scratch, get an agent, do some touring.”

“That’s…” Jensen feels breathless. “That’s really what you want?”

“With you?” Jared asks. “Yes. That’s exactly what I want.”

“God, I love you,” Jensen breathes, rising to kiss Jared, hands cupping his face.

“We can do it however you want,” Jared promises, mouth warm and certain against Jensen’s. “We can be the iconic, ideal rock band if that’s what you want… we don’t have to go public.”

“No,” Jensen draws back and shakes his head. He reaches out, strokes a lock of Jared’s hair, tugs it back from Jared’s cheek. “We go public or we don’t do this,” he says in all sincerity. “If I can’t be… with you… the way I want to be. Then it’s not worth it.”

Jared nods, brows drawing together as he thinks about that. “That’s… the best thing you could have said, Jen.”

“We’ll make it a whole thing,” Jensen promises, smiling as he leans up, mouth brushing Jared’s cheek. “And if we don’t get famous because people know… fuck ‘em.” Jensen flashes Jared a quick, hard grin. “At least we’ll die poor and telling the truth.”

“We could never die poor, Jensen,” Jared whispers, cheek turning against Jensen’s, mouth gliding against Jensen’s chin.

“You mean like… ‘yeah, we live in a shack, but at least we’ve got love?’” Jensen asks. Because, he will. He’ll totally do that. But it’s not really his first choice. Not to mention that he was being figurative--he’s probably got enough money to support both of them for the rest of their lives.

“No.” Jared chuckles, fingers sliding through Jensen’s hair, word murmured against the side of Jensen’s mouth. “I meant,” he breathes, tongue darting between Jensen’s lips, “That we could never be poor. Not with you playing guitar.”

“You think we’ll get famous again?” Jensen breathes, chest tightening. 

“I think with you on guitar, we might.” Jared nods, nudging into Jensen’s cheek. “I think we ought to be prepared for it.”Jared hesitates and then goes on. “And whether we do or not… we have to promise something. No matter what happens, it’s you and me.”

“I’ve…” Jensen bites his lip, tone pleading with Jared to understand. “I’ve promised that before.”

There’s a long silence, Jared still against him, and then Jared’s fingers trace the curve of the back of Jensen’s neck, leaving goose bumps in their wake, slipping into his hair. “Then don’t promise. If it’s meant to be… then it will be.”

Jensen nods, holding Jared tight. “So,” he whispers, voice choked with emotion. He clears his throat. “What do you think we should name the band?”

Jared pulls back, eyes squinting playfully at Jensen, corner of his mouth turning up.

“I think we should call it ‘Revolution Earth’,” Jared grins.

  
  



	7. Epilogue

They spend May and June at Jensen’s house in Albany, practicing together. Jared has at least two albums worth of material from over the years, and he gets Chad to send them copies of some of the sheet music. The rest, they work out riffs and rhythms to together, the whole process so natural and easy that it isn’t the slightest bit like work.

Jensen writes his first new song in June, hand hesitant over the page, recalling the words of the piece he’d thrown away unfinished that night in Richmond.

_I'd rather chase your shadow all my life  
Than be afraid of my own  
I'd rather be with you  
I'd rather not know  
Where I'll be than  
Be alone and convinced that I know  
And the world keeps spinning round  
My world's upside down  
And I wouldn't change a thing_

Those words… he remembers the day he’d written them on the bus, so happy from the night before with Jared. He hadn’t understood then that he’d been writing them _about_ Jared. It’s so clear now that he has no idea how he didn’t see it before.

The words come faster after that, guitar notes already playing inside his mind, and by the time he’s finished writing, he’s humming under his breath, smiling.

It’s the first happy song he’s written in years.

He plays it for Jared that same night, singing the words as he sits across from Jared, eyes locked on each other.

Jared practically tackles him afterwards, kissing him into the floor and whispering “I love you.”

*

They play their first show at a local club in New York in August, the city sweltering and so achingly familiar, Jensen sitting on a stool playing his acoustic guitar, Jared singing like perfection personified into the smoky stillness of the bar. It’s different here than playing at home, the acoustics of the building giving the sound a different quality, and it sounds so _right_ that he’s smiling by the end of the first song. They do a set of ten songs and Jensen has chills, can’t stop smiling the whole time. He wonders if he’ll ever stop being amazed by how good Jared is, how great they sound together. That they’re doing this _together_.

The club is packed, and the people applaud and cheer even if they don’t know the songs. They play _Spin_ for their final song, singing to each other instead of the crowd, voices twining together in perfect harmony, Jared’s voice leading. 

_“And the world keeps spinning round  
And my world's upside down  
And I wouldn't change a thing  
I've got nothing else to lose  
I lost it all when I found you  
And I wouldn't change a thing  
No, you and I wouldn't change a thing_

_Everything I know has let me down  
So I will just let go  
Let you turn me inside out  
Cause I know I'm not sure  
about anything  
But you wouldn't have it any other way_

_When the world keeps spinning round  
And my world's upside down  
And I wouldn't change a thing  
I've got nothing else to lose  
I lost it all when I found you  
And I wouldn't change a thing  
No, you and I wouldn't change a thing  
Spinning turning watching burning  
All my life has found its meaning  
Walking crawling climbing falling  
All my life has found its meaning_

_You and I wouldn't change a thing  
No, you and I wouldn't change a thing  
When the world keeps spinning round  
My world's upside down  
And I wouldn't change a thing”_

Jared grabs Jensen in a huge hug when they finish, kissing him full on the mouth and the crowd goes crazy. Jensen can’t remember the last time he felt this; this intense, mellow happiness inside him. He grabs Jared, laughing as he kisses him back, and God, it feels so good, being onstage with Jared, being this comfortable together, this free to be themselves right here in front of everyone. 

Afterward, they sit at the bar and have a few beers while they talk to the crowd. Jensen refuses an interview, but he signs autographs for everyone who asks, Jared pressed against his side. Jared is incredibly cute—as wound up as he was the first night they performed together at the hotel, laughing and teasing, flirting with Jensen. It’s low-key, relaxed, and easily the happiest show experience Jensen’s had in years.

They go home afterward, just the two of them, and fall into bed, laughing, talking and kissing until Jensen finally rolls Jared over and peels him out of his clothes. They fuck in their own bed and fall asleep in each other’s arms, and it feels better than anything Jensen can ever remember.

It’s _perfect_.

*

They do a show every couple of days, playing all over the state through the end of the summer, and it’s the most fun Jensen’s had in _years_. On the night of the last show, they lie in bed together afterward, Jared stroking his fingers up and down Jensen’s arm.

“So now what?” he asks, and Jensen has to admit, for all that he’s loved taking this time to do small shows, he kind of misses the big stage, the hum of the tour bus, the excitement of playing a huge show.

“So it’s time?” Jared asks, smiling.

“It’s time.”

*

On the first day of auditions, they have so many people show up that they have to divide them into groups, assign them a date and extend auditions for another two days to fit them all in. Twenty five people perform for them per day, and by the end of the third day, Jensen’s wondering if they’re ever going to find anyone that they both think is perfect for either position.

They’re sitting at a table inside the club in late afternoon, discussing today’s hopefuls when the door to the front pushes open, sunlight illuminating the room.

“The club’s not open yet,” Jensen says, turning and squinting against the glare. He can’t make out anything except a vague silhouette—of someone who’s ignoring him completely, apparently, because they keep right on walking inside.

“I said—“

“It’s okay,” a guy says, twirling what looks like a drum stick in one hand. The door falls shut behind him and Jensen can finally _see_.

“I’m with the band,” Chad says, grinning around the end of a cigarette.

Jensen and Jared practically trample each other trying to get to him and hug him.

“Me, too,” says a voice behind him, and then there’s a fourth set of arms, Sandy’s tiny body pressing up against Jensen.

Jensen is floored. “You’re here to audition?”

“Might as well,” Chad shrugs, grinning as he disentangles himself from the group hug. “T Minus Zero is history. You turned on a TV once in a while or called somebody, you’d know that.”

“Wait… the band split?”

“Not a band without you, Jen. We all agreed; it’s _your_ music. Nobody else can play it, wouldn’t be right. And Justin… he said he couldn’t imagine singing those songs with anyone else.”

“Justin. God. This is gonna…”

“He’s okay, Jen,” Sandy says, still holding on to him. “He’s the one who told us about the audition.”

“How did _he_ know?”

“He talked to Chris.”

“I can’t believe this,” Jensen breathes.

“So, we gonna fucking do this, or what?” Chad asks, grinning.

Jensen shares a look with Jared, and Jared nods, smiling. “Our very own Van Hagar.”

“Ah, fuck.” Jensen laughs ruefully and shakes his head. “We’re totally getting famous again.”

*

 

 

_Five Months Later… (2009)_

In January, Jensen gets a call from his accountant informing him that Justin has signed over his rights to the studio house in LA, leaving Jensen with the controlling interest.

Jensen tries calling him for the first time in seven months. He’s not sure he’s ready to talk to Justin, doesn’t know what he’s going to say. It turns out not to matter—Justin doesn’t answer.

Jensen calls six times over the course of the next couple of days, and Justin never does answer. Finally, Jensen leaves a simple _Thank you_ on his voicemail.

Jensen offers Chris enough money to abandon all his other projects and work for them full-time. They all fly to the LA studio-home where Jared and Jensen spend a couple months finishing the album composition, Chad and Sandy there supporting and suggesting through every step in the process. They start recording in April, every producer hand-picked by the band.

The band has a completely different energy with Jared at the center, a quiet, happy peacefulness. Not that Jared and Jensen never fight, but it’s different; there’s always a sense of it being impermanent—it always passes, worked out between the two of them to satisfaction afterward. They talk, they communicate, and they never, ever turn away from each other.

Jensen falls more and more in love with him every day, and he just knows the world is going to feel the same way once this album gets released.

*

In November, there’s a package in the mail; manila envelope, thick and heavy with Jensen’s name scrawled across it. He recognizes the handwriting; doesn’t even have to look at the upper left corner of the envelope to see where it came from. 

Jensen tears it open carefully, pulls out a thick sheaf of paper with a note clipped to the front.

_I thought you and Jared should read this first. It’s just a draft right now._

_I don’t think it can hurt any of us now, but I won’t put it to print without both of your okays._

_\--Justin_

Jensen pulls the note free. The words “Behind the Curtain: The Ballad of Justin and Jensen” are printed on the next page.

He falls back into his desk chair, head bowed, fingers rubbing back and forth across his brow line.

He almost doesn’t want to flip the page. Isn’t sure he wants to know, after all this time, what Justin has to say about him. It’s clearly a book, and Jensen can’t imagine it’s not going to get published, given who it’s written by and what it’s clearly about.

He sighs, licks his forefinger and thumb, and turns the page.

_This is a story about two boys who met in Albany and fell in love a long, long time ago._

He’s ten pages in, hand clasped permanently across his mouth as he reads, when the door to the room opens.

“What are you reading?” Jared asks; voice teasing as he walks in and leans against the desk.

“It’s…” Jensen pulls his hand from his face with an effort, looks up at Jared imploringly. “Justin… wrote a book.” He picks up the pages he’s already read through and hands them off to Jared.

Jared’s face goes from teasing to sad and serious in an instant. He doesn’t ask a single question; just pulls up a chair next to Jensen and sits down, starting to read—and God, Jensen loves him _so_ much. So thankful—like he is every single day—that Jared is the person he is.

They spend hours reading in turn, page by page, line by line. There are times when Jensen has to stop, hand pressed against his face, eyes closed tight against the emotion the words invoke. It’s during the culmination of those times that Jared catches up to him, waiting patiently for the next page.

It’s all laid out, right here, the _truth_ , every painful decision, every excruciating moment. Their whole relationship, everything about it; the beginning, the beauty, the crumbling, the secrecy, all the way through their break up to Justin checking into rehab and finding hope again.

For as sad as it is, it’s beautifully moving, and Jensen has tears of happiness and sadness both stinging behind his eyes as he reads the last page.

_Sometimes I think back... and I wonder; what would it have been like if I'd written this then? Maybe everything would have been different. Maybe he'd still be here with me today._

_Or maybe I'd be dead and buried by now. Jensen was always my touchstone to the world, but he was my crutch, too. He never would have said to me; Justin, you have a problem, you need help. He loved me too much for that. But he was braver than anyone else, because he did tell me, in the end, that it was my choice to live my life the way I wanted._

_And then he walked away and _made_ me._

_I don’t blame him for that. I thank him for waking me up in time._

_They say that getting over any relationship, truly and completely, takes at least half the time you were in it. I’m not even close.  
I still miss him, every single day. I want him to be here and hold my hand through all of this. It’s so hard to realize that unhappiness comes from hating yourself and that you’re the only one who can change that. But once you know it, you can never turn back._

_Much as I wish he was here, I know that if he was, I wouldn’t be changing at all. There are so many things I never knew I wanted until now. It’s sad that it took losing Jensen to understand, but sometimes that’s what it takes._

_He's happy now, and I'm happy for him. Someday, I'll find my own way there. I'm working on it, one step at a time._

_And so, this isn’t a story about two boys who met in Albany and fell in love a long, long time ago. Not anymore. This tale is told._

_I love you, Jensen. I always will._

_But now it’s time to write a new story all my own._

Jensen drops the page to the floor, lets his head fall into his hands. He’s breathing out hard, holding back tears, and he shouldn’t... _shouldn’t_ be feeling like this. Not when it’s been more a year and a half and he’s got Jared, and…

Jared finishes reading the last page and sets it on the desk. Jensen sucks in a breath and holds it, waiting.

Jared falls to his knees in front of Jensen, wraps his arms around Jensen’s shoulders and pulls him in close.

“I know I shouldn’t be upset,” Jensen says, holding on to Jared. “But I… it’s…”

“Closure.” Jared breathes, nodding against the curve of Jensen’s shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“I think he’s gonna be okay, Jen.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Jensen smiles. 

For the first time, he actually believes it.

*

 

 

_A Year and a Half Later… (2010)_

They wrap the final studio touches to the album in January and celebrate, house soaked with champagne and covered in confetti. They listen to the tracks while they celebrate and Jensen thinks that for all that three of them have been playing together for years, the band sound has definitely changed some—and for the better. A lot of the songs are more upbeat; there’s a higher energy to the tracks that’s all driven by Jared and reflected in the rest of them. But it’s still all pure rock n’ roll, and they all get a chance to shine, putting their heart and soul into every chord and beat.

“It’s good,” Chris says. “Really good. Not too different, just enough to set us apart from T Minus Zero.”

Chad’s smoking a joint, sitting on the couch, listening and nodding. “But it’s still all about the singer and the guitarist,” he says, smirking.

“Don’t be jealous, baby,” Jared says, blowing Chad a kiss.

“Hey, Sandy,” Chad says, leaning into her. “What do you say? Wanna get together and give ‘em a run for their money?”

Sandy grins, sizing Jared and Jensen up. “I don’t know. They’re cuter than us.”

Chad looks at them, squinting, and finally shrugs. “Maybe. But somebody’s gotta represent the het in this band.”

“You did _not_ just say that,” Jared laughs.

“With the way you two are always making out and making googly eyes at each other, the world’s gonna start thinking the whole _band_ is gay. Hey Chris,” Chad yells. “Can we get a disclaimer put in to make sure all the chicks know I’m not gay?”

“I’ll have them note it on the CD sleeve,” Chris answers, wry.

“Excellent,” Chad says and tips back his champagne bottle.

“So what’re we gonna call this thing, anyway?” Chris asks, looking around.

*

 

“Members of Revolution Earth held a press conference earlier today in LA to promote their first album, _Rising from the Ashes_ , which is due to be released next Wednesday. With Revolution Earth being comprised of three former members from the chart-topping, superstar band T Minus Zero, _Rising from the Ashes_ is easily the most anticipated rock n’ roll album of 2010. The first single from the album, _In the Blood_ , debuted on the charts last month at number five and hit number one within a week, a position it’s held for the last three weeks. I’m Kurt Loder for…”

 

_…but if Revolution Earth has any expectations of becoming as big as the band that gave birth to their careers, you’d never know it to look at them. That may have a lot to do with the band’s singer, Jared Padalecki. At 6’5 and 220lbs—all of them solid muscle—you’d think he’d be a bit intimidating to meet in person. But after we shake hands, he sits down on guitarist Jensen Ackles’s lap, draping an arm around his boyfriend’s neck, and he just looks like a big kid who’s having the time of his life—a big kid in big love, judging from the looks shared between the two. - Excerpt from the LA Times, June 5, 2010_

 

“ _Rising from the Ashes_ , the debut album from the band Revolution Earth, debuted on the charts today at number one. The band, boasting three members from the legendary T Minus Zero, had quite the legacy to live up to…”

 

*

Justin calls Jensen for the first time in over two years the day the album debuts. It’s an awkward, almost painful conversation—Justin congratulating him, the two of them making small talk about their separate lives—but it feels good, too. 

*

 

_As good as the album is, it remains to be seen if Revolution Earth will have the staying power of T Minus Zero once public curiosity starts to wear off. – Excerpt from the New York Times, June 10, 2010._

 

_How big the band’s tour will be depends on how well the album is received. The band’s agent, Chris Kane, had this to say; “If the album does as well as I think it’s going to, we’ll be kicking off a cross-country tour this August.” And if it doesn’t? “Well, then you can catch us at every small-time club across the country for half the price. But don’t get your hopes up,” he winks. – Excerpt from Entertainment Weekly, June 12, 2010_

 

_When asked about what effect he thinks this effect will have on his photography book, _Heart of Rock n’ Roll_ \--a photography book of over 120 photos focusing solely on Jensen Ackles and Justin Hartley, formerly the guitarist and lead singer of the now disbanded T Minus Zero—John Ravine just laughs. “I’ll tell you, you might think I’d be discouraged after all the time I put into that project, but I’m just as excited as ever. Jared and Jensen… they’re the Justin and Jensen for the new decade. It’s such a different dynamic; not at all the destructive energy we saw between Justin and Jensen, but that doesn’t lessen the dramatic impact. They’re even more interesting because of the fact that they’re allowing the world into their relationship openly, and the chemistry and the amount of love that’s clearly there… it’s inspiring. You hear a song like _When I Can_ , and you just know that it’s about Justin and Jensen saying goodbye. Then you get to a track like _Spin_ or _In the Blood_ , and it’s so different from anything T Minus Zero ever did that it’s immediately clear what a different relationship this is. _Essence of Arrival_ , for all its songs about love, pales by way of comparison. I’m already working on a new book centering on…” –Excerpt from Entertainment Weekly, July 18, 2010_

 

_Revolution Earth kicks off its US tour tonight here in LA at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. Tickets are completely sold out for the event. One fan, who was also a fan of Revolution Earth’s previous incarnation as T Minus Zero, says she paid $150 for floor seats to the…” - Excerpt from the LA Times, August 21, 2010_

 

*

Justin calls him after the first show to ask him it went, and Jensen can’t say anything other than fantastic. He can’t tell Justin how amazing it was—how fucking _epic_ it was to be onstage with three people who all love each other and him so much, how incredibly pure Jared’s voice sounded, how Jensen had gotten down on the floor during the solo to _Spin_ and how Jared had straddled him, bodies not quite touching as he leaned down and sang the words to Jensen. How Jensen’s heart almost pounded right out of his chest, how crazy the crowd went by the end, Jared pulling him up from the floor and into a kiss.

“I saw you in an interview on TV the other day…” Justin is saying. “You look happier than I’ve ever seen you, Jen. It made me smile.”

There’s a long pause, and then Jensen asks, “So, how have you… how have you been?”

“It’s a work in progress,” Justin says, and Jensen can almost see his tired smile.

“You think you’re ever gonna get back into the business?”

“Maybe. If that’s what I decide I want. I’m not in a hurry.” 

“Well if you do, let us know so we can be prepared for the competition,” Jensen says teasing.

Justin laughs. “I don’t think you guys have anything to worry about, Jen. You all sound amazing.”

“If anyone can give us a run for our money, it’s you, Justin. You were born to be onstage. I’d… it’d be a crime against the whole world for you to give it up.”

“I can’t say I don’t miss it… but right now, I’ve got other things to think about that are more important.”

“Yeah.” Jensen nods his understanding.

They talk for a few more minutes, and when Jensen hangs up, he stands there for a minute, just thinking about how… almost _normal_ that felt. How his night feels somehow more complete because of it.

“Everything okay?” Jared asks as he walks up, throwing his arms around Jensen’s neck.

“Yeah,” Jensen says, looking up and smiling. “Everything’s… _perfect_ ,” he adds, leaning to kiss Jared.

*

Justin’s book goes on the stands just as they’re winding down the tour, and it’s an instant hit. Jensen and Jared are _swamped_ with interviews about the book, and they take each one together. Every single word in the book is true, after all, and beyond that they both want to clear the air and tell the truth, Jared wants to make very clear how much of a grudge there isn’t between him and Justin.

Every single time, Jensen is reminded for the billionth time of how incredibly lucky he is.

*

Justin calls more and more frequently, and Jensen calls him, too, slowly beginning to repair the damage between them, and Jensen thinks they might be building an actual friendship for the very first time.

They’re just as famous as T Minus Zero ever was by the end of the year, and Jared handles it all with grace, completely humble and so charming that the media _adores_ him the same way Jensen does.

They’re just as famous, but it’s different this time. Chris manages them with his usual down home style, and no matter how big or crazy things get, he never loses his level head. The band has more control over things this time, too, and that makes for happiness all around. They still party. Jared and Jensen still drink, they still get high, occasionally they roll or do a line, but it’s all in moderation—and always _together_. And usually with Chad and Sandy, too.

They have their own, private double bunk in the back of the tour bus, and any time they want to slip away from an after party, they let Chad, Sandy and Chris know before they head back to the hotel room. Every now and again, they bring someone back to the room with them, but again, it’s always together, and when the sun comes up, it’s back to just the two of them.

Through it all, Jared never founders in his promise to stay by Jensen’s side. No matter what happens, they back each other, they defend and protect each other; love each other to the very end.

It’s everything Jensen hadn’t even imagined this life could be like.

*

 

 

_Five Years Later… (2013)_

It’s the first show of their third tour and Jared and Jensen are standing backstage at the Power Balance Arena--formerly the Arco Arena--in Sacramento, watching the opening band do their big finish. Chad and Sandy are just a bit behind them, watching just as intently, the two of them talking back and forth.

“They’re really good,” Jared says, eyes focused on the band.

“They really are,” Jensen nods, arms folded over his chest as watches, corner of his mouth quirking into a smile. 

“I still can’t believe he’s dating Tommy,” Chad adds from behind them.

“I still can’t believe Tommy stopped getting high for him,” Jared laughs.

“Love’ll make you do strange things,” Jensen says, smiling as he looks at Jared.

The stage has gone silent, and all Jensen can hear is the sound of the crowd roaring. The band takes their final bows under the spotlight, and then they’re running towards the backstage curtain.

Justin heads straight for Jensen, arms open wide as he yells out _Jenny_ , more excited than Jensen can remember seeing him in… so many years. His arms fly around Jensen, spinning the two of them in a circle, Jensen laughing and clapping him on the back.

“You guys were amazing,” Jensen grins, and the smile Justin gives him in return is brilliant, utterly glowing as he draws back.

A hugely muscled, tall guy walks up to Justin; he’s got dark hair and ice blue eyes, an angular jaw and a pretty face that still somehow manages to be masculine, wide mouth with a lip ring through the lower swell.

“Hey,” Justin says, dragging Tommy into a quick kiss. He turns, arm still around Tommy’s shoulders as he says, “Guys, this is Tommy.”

“We all know Tommy,” Chad says, grinning as he clasps Tommy’s hand. 

“Hey guys,” Tommy says, smiling. “Good to see you. Catch you after, okay? I gotta get to work.”

He heads for the stage and Justin slaps him on the ass, Tommy turning with a playful smile before he keeps walking.

“That’s my roadie,” Justin says fondly, watching him walk away.

“I still can’t believe you’re taking a page from my book,” Jensen says, grinning.

Justin looks at Jensen, then over at Jared, then back to Jensen with a smile. “You had the right idea. Can’t fault your logic, Jenny.”

He grabs Jensen in another hug, and Jensen wraps his arms around Justin, eyes closing.

“Thanks for giving us this break tonight,” Justin whispers, hugging Jensen hard.

“Don’t even,” Jensen answers, voice gruff as he hugs Justin back. It feels good to be able to hug him, feels good to love him without any need or any pain. This bond between them, it hasn’t changed much over the years; they’re as close as they ever were, except that now, they’re finally _friends_. 

Justin pulls back, still smiling. He pauses for a second, and then he lunges, grabbing Jared in an enthusiastic hug. Jared laughs and hugs him back, and Jensen feels something so beautiful and aching inside his chest that he can’t even explain as he watches them. Justin lets go of Jared with a last smiling nod, and then he hugs Chad and Sandy in turn.

“See you guys after the show,” he says, waving before he walks away.

They spend half an hour chilling in the room just backstage, waiting for their equipment to be set up, and then they’re on.

They run out onto the stage, following Jared’s bouncing lead, and Jared grabs the mic as they take their places, yanking it into his hand as he asks the audience how they’re doing tonight.

“How about our opening band tonight, huh? Give it up for _Karmic Odyssey_.” The crowd goes wild, screaming and applauding and Jared grins, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah,” he says, nodding as he walks across the stage. “They put on one hell of a show, right?” he asks, raising an arm, looking sideways across the mic at the crowd, and the audience goes crazy again. “Don’t know how we’re gonna top that,” he says when they quiet a little, “but we’re gonna try.” He yanks his face towards Jensen, yelling out, “Hit it, Jen.”

Jensen launches into the opening chords of the song, fingers flying as the spotlight burns down on him, whole world exploding into sound and flashing lights. 

During one of the guitar breaks, Jensen grabs Jared by the front of his leather vest, white t-shirt underneath pulling away with it, both of them singing into each other’s mouths, Jensen’s voice twining around Jared’s. It’s perfect, like anything else they’ve ever done—both of them so alive, sweating under the stage lights, pouring their hearts out to each other—to the world.

When they finish, the crowd is screaming and thrashing in a roar of sound, and Jared is smiling at him, hazel eyes sparkling. He’s beautiful underneath the spotlight, and Jensen steps into it with him.

Jensen wraps his arms around Jared, whispering, “You’d think it would get old…”

“But it never does,” Jared agrees, grinning.

Jensen kisses him and the crowd gets even louder.

The lights fade out on the image of the two of them in each other’s arms.

 

 

FINIS

  
  


[](http://i708.photobucket.com/albums/ww81/thenyxx/revolution-earth-article-L.jpg)

[ **Beautiful Disaster - The Soundtrack** ](http://community.livejournal.com/ldyghst_music/15733.html)

[](http://community.livejournal.com/ldyghst_music/15733.html)  
Cover art and songs arranged by ldyghst.  
She rocks so much for putting this together for me.  
This soundtrack contains all the songs whose lyrics I use throughout the story. They're not all rock songs in real life, but they've been converted to rock songs in the story. It requires a bit of imagination ;)

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit is due to the bands whose lyrics I used for this project. Not all of them are rock songs originally, but for the purposes of this story, they’ve been converted into rock songs, complete with wailing guitar and driving beats.
> 
> Cold Contagious; Cold Contagious, lyrics as written and performed by Bush  
> Don’t Believe You; The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove, lyrics as written and performed by Dead Can Dance  
> God of Wine; God of Wine, lyrics as written and performed by Third Eye Blind  
> End; End, lyrics as written and performed by The Cure  
> Unpublished lyrics: Forever Earthbound, as written and performed by The Renaissance  
> Vegas concert lyrics: Motorcycle Drive-by, as written and performed by Third Eye Blind  
> 80’s song Jensen passes out to: No One is to Blame, as written and performed by Howard Jones  
> I'm the One - I'm the One as written and performed by the Descendants  
> Sick Cycle Carousel - Sick Cycle Carousel as written and performed by Lifehouse  
> Song Jared and Jensen play together - In the Blood as written and performed by Better Than Ezra  
> Jared's Song - Lucky Man - Lucky Man as written and performed by The Verve  
> From The Edge of the Deep Green Sea - From The Edge of the Deep Green Sea, as written and performed by The Cure  
> When I Can - Mayonaise, as written and performed by the Smashing Pumpkins  
> Spin - Spin, as written and performed by Lifehouse.
> 
>  
> 
> Most of the questions in the VH1 interview were borrowed from a Nickelback interview after their first album.


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